


The Disturbing Mystery of the Jamison Family

by icantwritegood



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Frenemies, Rivals, You'll like this, a cute dog!!, cults!!, do they hate each other or do they just wanna fuck, drug deals!!, drugs!!, i'm beginning to see a pattern with my fics here, if you liked my zodiac killer fic, might get a tiny bit dark, or the von emster one, shyan, the woods!!, woah-oh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-08 17:15:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 68,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14110203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantwritegood/pseuds/icantwritegood
Summary: A whole family goes missing, leaving behind a trail of inexplicable clues that seem to lead nowhere. And if that wasn't frustrating enough, just add two detectives who can't stand each other, and a whole lot of time to spend together.Prepare for snide comments and homoerotic undertones.





	1. Not Sexual

**Author's Note:**

> once again, some random buzzfeed people, but they just lil side characters

"You hear about the case?"

"Hm?"

"The Jamisons." Kelsey sat down at her desk across from Sara's, scooching her chair in with enough momentum to almost spill her coffee all over herself. "They- Oh fuck, that was close - They've been declared missing. Officially. The boss is in there right now trying to put together a team."

Sara raised her eyebrows at her. "You want to be on it or something?"

"Uh, hell no. But think about it, Rubin." Kelsey raised both hands, a finger up on both, and a giant grin on her face. "Family goes missing. Main theory is they got murked. Which means...?"

The pages in Sara's hand were slowly lowered to the desk as she put two and two together. "Oh no. No, Quinta won't do that. She knows that'll be a shitstorm."

"I don't think she'll have a choice. Shane is Missing Persons. And-"

"Ryan is Major Crimes." Sara sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair. "And I'd only started getting over the last time."

"I had to go to therapy for that shit." Steven finally revealed his eavesdropping, spinning in his chair to face them. "You really think Quinta will put them together?"

"As I _said_ , I don't think the boss has a choice here." Kelsey shrugged. "Unless she demotes one of them. Which will be more of a loss to the entire case than anything else."

"But probably worth it. You remember how bad it was towards the end?" Steven used a thumb to point over at where Brent sat, headphones on. "I used to have to send him into the room to break the damn tension. He just sucked all sexual energy out of the place like a weird sponge."

"It wasn't _sexual_ tension." Andrew placed a mug of coffee in Steven's hands as he joined them, giving them all a stern look. "It was just regular tension. They wanted to kill each other, that's it."

"Nuh-uh." Kelsey pointed at him, a gesture like she was a teacher scolding a student. "We all saw them at my party. If they were gonna kill each other, the only way they were gonna do so was by fucking each other to de-"

"I hope you're all working!" Quinta's voice was like a snooker cue, her employees the billiards as they scattered back to their seats. "Save the gossiping for when you're not working, you idiots. You're not grannies at bingo, yeah?"

She closed her door behind her, moving through the desks, towards the corridors. Kelsey waited until she'd vanished before whispering to Sara.

"She's gonna go deliver the bad news, Rubin. Just wait for the explosion." She took a sip of her coffee, eyebrows raised. "And you're definitely gonna be on the case."

Sara stared at her for a moment, as if debating whether or not to take the hidden advice. "Oh, fuck it."

* * *

Ryan enjoyed doing cases. He loved starting them, he loved working them, but he despised finishing them. All the damn paperwork, the filing, the signing, it was a nightmare. He was pretty sure he could feel a headache coming on. A loud knock on the door made him glance up, his pen freezing mid-word as his eyes landed on the person doing the knocking. Well. Maybe he'd been right about the oncoming headache.

"Dun dun _duuuuun_." Shane stepped into the office, spreading his arms like he was a gift from God himself. "Please, restrain the urge to throw yourself at me."

"Go away," replied Ryan instantly, going back to his work. "It's too early for this crap."

"It's half four in the evening."

"Yeah. I know."

Shane gave him a dry smile, wandering further into the office, much to Ryan's clear dislike. "Has Quinta been by yet?"

Ryan watched him with narrowed eyes, leaning back in his chair. "Why would Quinta have been by?"

"Oh, wait, yeah." Shane turned to flash him a grin, hands in his pockets. "I said I'd deliver the message."

Okay, now he was on edge. "What? What message?"

"Just before I reveal the delightful piece of news," continued Shane, ignoring the fuming glower on Ryan's face as he did so. "I'd like to remind you of some things."

"For God's sake, dude. Just tell me what it is you have to tell me." The fact that Shane had gone out of his way to deliver the news himself was a sign that had Ryan feeling the tiniest bit ill. "Shane. Come on."

"No, no, the reminders are very important. They'll really add to the whole thing."

"Just- Fine." Ryan finally put his pen down, giving his coworker his undivided attention. "Get on with it then."

"What do these three things have in common?" Shane ticked them off on his fingers, smiling at the flat look on the other man's face as he did so. "Office party. Kelsey's birthday. Taxi."

Ryan took a deep breath, rolling his eyes. "I was horrifically drunk on each occasion."

"As was I." Shane took a seat in front of the desk, casually kicking his feet up on it, as if it was his own office. "Oh don't look at me like that, Ryan. I thought we'd moved past our little spats."

"Oh, you thought that, did you?"

"Nope." He stretched, a leisurely gesture, letting out a long, low moan as he did so, before linking his hands behind his head. "Oh, that felt _good_. Nothing like a good stretch, is there?"

Ryan tore his eyes away, closing his mouth, mentally cursing himself. "Leave me alone, Madej. I can already feel my blood pressure rising."

"I'm sure you can."

"Get out, Shane." He got to his feet, not liking the knowing smile the other man was wearing. "God, I hate your stupid fucking face so much. I'd almost forgotten."

"Well you're gonna be getting reacquainted with it very soon, Bergara."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him, watching him stand up. "What the hell does that mean?"

"The Jamisons." Shane still had that smirk on his face, like he knew a joke that Ryan was the punchline to. "They've officially been declared missing."

"Yeah, I heard." Ryan stood with his hands on his hips, waiting very impatiently indeed. "Jesus Christ, Shane. Are you trying to piss me off?"

"I don't really need to try, do I?" 

"You-" Ryan closed his eyes, placing a hand over them in an attempt to relax. "Right. Right, just wait there for a moment." He picked up the phone on his desk, earning a frown from the taller man.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, just calling Quinta," replied Ryan with a smile, hand covering the mouthpiece. "She'll tell me whatever you're meant to, I'm sure."

"No, you little-" Shane swiped for it, the desk moving as he pushed against it, his hand missing by an inch as Ryan yanked the phone out of the way. He had to be the one to spill it. He _had_ to, he couldn't miss up on the opportunity to see Ryan's face. "Me and you! We've been assigned. To the Jamison case. Starting tomorrow."

Ryan's face froze, the phone halfway to his ear. "What."

Shane smiled wryly up at him, still leaning over his desk, an elbow propping him up. "Our divisions are on it, Bergara. And there's nothing you can do about it."

It was like he'd been told his entire family had been murdered. Ryan closed his eyes, ignoring Quinta's confused voice from the phone as he lowered it. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to cry or scream. Maybe both. Or maybe just hang himself with the phone cord.

"You should go," he said, dangerously quiet. "Now."

"Or what?" Shane grinned as the shorter man opened his eyes to glare at him. 

"Or you'll make me do something that'll definitely get one or the both of us fired."

"Oh God, stop. A man can only get so turned on."

Ryan shoved the phone back onto the hook, not even caring that it didn't quite stay on properly. "And you're happy about this, are you?"

"Not quite happy, no." Shane watched as the shorter man circled the desk to face him directly, their eyes locked. "But there's nothing that gives me half as much satisfaction as pushing you over the edge."

"Did you do this on purpose?" asked Ryan suspiciously, arms folded across his chest. He couldn't have looked more disapproving if he'd tried. "Are you really that desperate to see me?"

"Desperate?" Shane exhaled sharply, an almost-laugh, the derision clear. "God, you wish. But, you know the saying."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "And what saying is that?"

"Keep your friends close," replied Shane quietly, not taking his eyes from the shorter man's. "And your enemies so close... you're almost kissing."

"I'm pretty sure that's not the saying."

"Well it should be." 

"If we are gonna be put on this case together-"

"We are."

"-then you better be ready to actually do some work," he said, seeing the offended glare appear on the taller man's face as he spoke. "Because I'm gonna be riding your ass on this one, Madej." He paused. "Not sexual."

"You think you're gonna be in charge here?" Shane scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Really, Ryan. You always just assume you're the top guy, don't you? Well you won't be the top guy here. You'll be the bottom. Also not sexual."

"I will _not_ be the bottom," replied Ryan fiercely. "I'm the top because my division works ten times faster than yours ever could. So you better try and keep up, because I'm gonna have you on a tight leash, Madej, and I won't care if you choke falling behind." He pointed a stern finger at him. "I'm _not_ trying to make all this sound sexual."

"No one is, it's just happening."

"You'll be under me. Fuck!"

The sound of footsteps pacing down the corridor outside burst their little bubble, the two men turning their heads to see Sara appear in the doorway. She gave them a quick wave, an almost panicked gesture. It seemed as if she'd ran, her curls wild, face flushed.

"Yo, Shane." She gave them a bright smile. "I need you to look at something for me."

"Sure. Be right out." He gave the shorter man a wink, turning away. "See you tomorrow, Ryan. Bright and early."

Well, fuck. Ryan stood where he was for a few minutes, eventually sitting back on his desk, arms still folded. This was... an unfortunate turn of events. He and Shane had worked together in the past, yes, of course. Missing Persons and Major Crimes frequently overlapped. But something had changed in the last case, which was about a year ago. He wasn't quite sure what. One minute they'd been doing their usual bickering and derisive commentary, and then something had just... clicked. Every word seemed to have some other meaning, each sentence a double-edged sword, with contempt on one side, and... something else on the other. They'd held off until the end of the case, somehow. That had been torturous enough in itself. Then, almost by stubbornness, neither had acted on their obvious thoughts for a month or so. Until the stupid office party. Ryan grimaced at the memory; he couldn't even look at the storage closet anymore. _Stupid, Bergara. That was stupid_. And the worst thing was that he'd initiated it. Yeah, sure, Madej had started the one at Kelsey's, and made the first move in the taxi when they'd both been multiple and various drinks in. But Ryan had made the first first move, and that was the worst part. He didn't have many regrets in his life, but that was definitely one of them. They hadn't gone the full way, however. On any of the occasions. Even drunk Ryan knew how much he'd definitely hate himself after. And luckily, Shane had never tried to pressure him. Because if he had, well... drunk Ryan wasn't the most resolute. 

Really, Ryan had just ignored the whole situation since, refusing to acknowledge the fact that they would most definitely have to work together again in the near future. And the day had come, apparently. The few times he'd been alone with Madej in the station - their offices were across the building from each other, thankfully - had been brimming with tension, almost painfully so. Ryan therefore tended to make sure the other man wasn't around before leaving his own office. He knew it was stupid. He was a grown man, for God's sake. But it was _hard_. And he didn't want to think about why. 

 


	2. Playing Pretend and Playing Dirty

Shane continued studying the map in front of him, tapping out a steady rhythm against the desk with his pen as he did so. A tap for each tick on the clock. _Just a bit longer. Just a tiny bit longer. Few more seconds. Three, two, one_.

“Ah, Ryan.” Shane lazily raised his head, resting his chin on his hand as he finally looked at the man standing in the doorway. “I didn’t see you there.”

A pause. “I’ve been standing here for the past five minutes, Shane.” 

“Well why didn’t you  _say_ something?” He sat back in his chair, gesturing at the seats in front of his desk. “Please. Delight me with your company.”

“I’m not here to delight you with anything, actually.”

“Well, knock me over with a feather, Ryan,” he replied, eyebrows raised in mock-astonishment. “I did  _not_  expect that.”

“I’ll knock you over with a hell of a lot more than a feather, you dick.” He moved into the room, hands on his hips, like a parent about to give the scolding of a lifetime to their unruly child. “Why didn’t you tell me about the search?”

He kept his eyebrows raised, lips pressed together. “Hm?”

Each word was weighted, heavy with barely-restricted rancor. “Don’t. Act. Stupid.” 

“Don’t. Tell me. What to do.” 

Ryan let his gaze swap to the window, taking a deep breath; he had to look at something that wasn’t Shane, or he’d simply combust into flames right in the guy's office. Then again, being on fire would probably be a preferable situation to the one he was in right now. “There are three hundred people out there right now searching for the Jamisons, and I only find out from my team?”

“Oh no,” replied Shane, not making any attempt to hide his apathy as he slowly spun back-and-forth in his chair. “Did it make you look like an idiot? Please say it made you look like an idiot.”

“God dammit, Shane! Enough of this shit already!”

"Woah, Ryan! Calm down!" He bit back his delighted smile, but not too much. He still wanted Ryan to see how happy he was at the situation, after all. "Let me explain the rules to you here, yeah? I’m Missing Persons. You’re, well, you’re not. So the searches are under my jurisdiction, not yours.” He gave a small shrug. "Simples."

His coworker had his glare fixed on the ceiling, hands on his hips so tightly that the shirt fabric was bunched under his fingers. "And why couldn't you have just told me about it?"

“I dunno. Didn’t have to?” He straightened up in his seat, his smile slipping as Ryan suddenly stormed across the office towards him. "Hey. Back the hell up, Bergara."

Ryan stopped in front of the desk, placing his hands firmly on it as he leaned forwards. “Listen. Closely. I’m willing to cooperate here, but-”

“No you’re not.”

“Well I’m willing to at least  _try_ ,” corrected Ryan, his voice clipped, sharp. “But if you’re gonna start trying to make me look like an ass in front of my own damn team, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Well even if I did tell you about the search," replied Shane instantly. "What exactly were you going to do with that information, huh? Stage the search yourself? Because we all know just how much Ryan likes to be in charge.”

“So you're feeling threatened, is that it?"

“Not a chance.” He got to his feet, mirroring Ryan’s stance, their eyes locked. “The Jamisons are declared missing, Bergara. And any operations related to missing persons are under my authority. And my division knows how to go about it. Got it?”

“And how difficult can it be to stage a search, huh? If they give free reign to  _you_ , it can’t really be that complicated.”

“Oh, you wanna know the secret, do you? The recipe to the perfect search?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Take a guess.”

“Gather a bunch of people and tell them what to look for.”

Shane simply stared at him for a moment, arching a disdainful eyebrow. “Well, you know what? That’s it exactly. But I’m still not going to share authority with you, because you suck and I hate you with every fiber of my being.”

“It really  _is_  that simple.” Ryan grinned at him, finally straightening up, the other man doing the same, his long inhale audible. “Well, no wonder they put you in charge.”

“And yet you still weren’t informed of it until the last second.” He smiled at the irritation that flickered across the shorter man’s face. “How embarrassing.”

“I’m not embarrassed, Shane. I’m pissed off.”

“Oh, baby. That’s even better.”

Ryan turned away with a contemptuous ‘tut’, heading for the door. “Don’t call me ‘baby’.”

“It’s too much for you, is it?”

He stopped in the doorway, half-turning to throw him an unimpressed look. “How about you keep it in your pants this time, Madej.”

“Oh, of course.” Shane smiled at him as he strolled across the office to join him in the doorway, pausing to look down at him before passing by. “Strictly professional. If you want to keep playing pretend.”

“Playing pretend?” Ryan followed him down the corridor, glaring at the back of his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know. Just the way you want to act as if we even have the  _slightest_ chance of ever getting along.”

“Well, we might,” replied Ryan, fully aware he was lying through his teeth. “If you’d stop acting like an idiot.”

“Big words for someone who stopped multiple times while we were making out just to tell me how much you hate me,” said Shane with a nonchalant shrug, allowing the shorter man to catch up beside him.

“Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“Making out.” He pulled a face. “It’s like something teenagers would do.”

“It’s like something two people, who are very much attracted to each other but won’t admit it, and will therefore only act upon this attraction when under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol, would do.”

"Shut up, you idiot." He could feel the taller man watching him as they made their way down the corridor. He could almost _feel_ his irritating amusement at the situation. "I'm not attracted to you."

"Ooh, Ryan. I have a few scenarios that would imply otherwise."

"One scenario," corrected the shorter man as they came to a halt outside incident room B. "I only hit on you one time. The other two times were you."

"But you did it first," grinned Shane, enjoying the flush that spread across his coworker's cheeks as he continued. "You were so hands-on, Bergara. An action man both on and off the field, aren't you?"

"Shut up and fuck you." He pushed open the door to the room, finding his team chatting and laughing and generally acting like a classroom full of twelve-year-olds. "Hey, what the hell, guys? Where's all your work?"

"Nice authority here, Ryan." Shane leaned against the door frame, arms folded across his chest. "I can see them trembling with fear."

For a long moment, the shorter man just stared at him, face unreadable. "Wow. Wow, I really had to stop myself from slamming that door right on your stupid face."

Shane smiled wryly in response, throwing him a lingering look over his shoulder as he continued on down the corridor. Ryan shut the door, a tad bit harder than necessary, closing his eyes as he leaned against it. He wasn't an aggressive guy, he knew he wasn't. He wasn't irascible in the slightest. But Shane just knew how to push his buttons. In almost every way. He turned back to face his team, who had taken their seats around the table.

"So who went to the mother?" he began, already feeling himself calm down. "Connie, right?"

"Connie Kokotan." Helen pushed a brown folder across the table towards him. "She had some interesting things to say about the whole thing, man. Bit suspicious."

"As in, she looked suspicious?" He picked the folder up, frowning at it. "This is pretty big for a five-minute questioning, right?"

"As I said, she had a lot of interesting things to say."

"And what about the guy on the hill?" Ryan turned to Steven, eyebrows raised expectantly. "What did he have to say?"

"Just that he saw them. But also didn't see anyone else around at the time, either." He placed a much thinner file on top of Helen's, giving a shrug. "He did mention something about a storage container? Said the Jamisons were going to live in one or something."

Ryan picked up the files, giving his team grateful smiles. "This is good. Great. But now we've got to get on with that warrant. Any luck?"

Adam shrugged from his seat in the corner, pulling one headphone off. "Judge said they'd have it back to us tonight."

"Before-"

"Before Shane, yes."

Helen rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him. "Really, Ryan. Isn't there meant to be some sort of cooperation happening between our division and theirs?"

"There's supposed to be, yeah." He waved for Adam's attention again. "Yo, Adam. The second that gets through, let me know. Okay?"

"Mmhmm."

"Good." He gave them the thumbs up to scatter if they wanted to, sitting down at the table and beginning to flick through the interviews. "Good."

* * *

Shane knocked lightly on the door, just once. The barest tap.

"Come in."

He waited patiently for about a minute before knocking again, just as lightly. The reply was more hesitant this time.

"...Come in?"

He watched his watch, waiting until two minutes had passed before giving the door a few rapid taps. He ignored the confused 'Hello? Is anyone there?' as he wandered off down the corridor, continuing on to the incident room. He had just turned the corner when he heard the door open, hearing Ryan's muttered 'what the _fuck_ ' before the door shut again. What a tool. The guy got so easily spooked it was a wonder how he even made it this high in the police force.

Shane sauntered on down the corridor, whistling a bright tune as he sorted through the list of items in front of him; Bobby Dale's wallet, Sherilyn's purse, Bobby's phone, $32,000 in cash...

"I fucking knew it'd be you!"

Shane jumped at the shout, spinning to face his coworker. He'd assumed the guy had shut his door from the inside. Clearly not. Ryan was glaring at him from the end of the hall, his anger palpable in waves of heat. The guy seemed to be waiting for some response, fists clenched by his sides.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Shane coolly, turning away. "And don't yell at me."

"Shane, wait."

He reluctantly did, once he heard that his coworker was following him anyway. "What?"

"You have to stop."

"Stop what?"

"Fucking with me, Shane. You're distracting me. You _know_ you are."

"I'm sorry I'm so distracting to you," replied Shane in a disinterested drawl, looking at him like he was an unskippable Youtube ad. "But I think that's more your problem than mine."

"I'm serious. You're-" His eyes landed on the paper in the taller man's hands, his gaze immediately moving back up to meet Shane's. "What's that?"

"Nothing." Shane didn't look away, moving the pages behind his back. "Nothing of your concern, anyway."

"Then I guess you wouldn't mind showing me." 

"Oh, but I would mind showing you. Because you're-"

"I swear to God if that's about the search I'll goddamn flip, Shane." He gritted his teeth in irritation. "Show me."

The taller man raised his eyebrows at this, amused disbelief on his face. "Excuse me?"

"Show me that list," he demanded, putting a hand out. "Now."

"Or what?" 

"Or I'll take it off you."

A small smile played over the taller man's mouth. "Will you, now?"

"Shane." His voice was quiet, dangerously so. "Give it."

"Alright." He waited for a few long seconds, not taking his eyes from Ryan's. "On one condition."

"For fuck's- What? What condition?"

"You use that voice the next time we find ourselves in an inconveniently small space together."

Ryan snatched the paper from his hand, narrowing his eyes at him as he stepped around him. "Yeah, I'll take note to definitely  _not_  do that."

"So that's a yes to the being in a small space together?" 

"Oh my _God_ , Shane. I mean, Jesus Christ, I-"

"That's three holy figures in one sentence, Ryan. Be careful you don't get struck down."

Ryan's eyes scanned the list quickly, widening at the items on it. "Did you guys find the Jamisons' fucking car?!"

"Oh, yeah," shrugged Shane, hands in his pockets. "Must've forgotten to tell you. You're just so... _forgettable_ , I guess."

Ryan paused at the door to the incident room, a hand resting on it as he took a deep, hopefully calming breath. "Why are you doing this?"

The taller man raised an eyebrow, keeping his voice light. "Doing what?"

For a long moment, Ryan just stared up at him, one hand still on the door. A smile slowly spread across his face, much to Shane's chagrin, and he even laughed as he pushed open the door to the incident room. Shane put out a hand to stop it from swinging back, watching with narrowed eyes as Ryan stood over the table, starting to transcribe the list, back to the taller man.

"What's with the laughing?" asked Shane after a few moments silence, unable to quite ignore the sudden jollity. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing."

He glared at the other man, not that this glare was noticed. "Why are you snickering, huh? What's going on?"

"I just think it's pretty funny," began Ryan, the pen appearing over his shoulder as he gestured vaguely with it. "How you think you're being all suave and savvy, when really you're just threatened by me. I guess it's almost cute."

There was silence for a moment. The hinges squeaked as the door swung shut. Ryan glanced over his shoulder, wondering if Shane had left or stayed at this comment. He'd stayed. Which meant he was definitely on to something.

"Threatened?" The taller man's voice was dry, mocking. "By you? Well, Ryan. I'd suggest you swallow your pride, before I swallow it for you."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Not sexual?"

"A tiny bit sexual." He moved further into the room, noticing how the shorter man straightened up as he approached, turning to face him. "But I'm genuinely curious as to how your stupid mind somehow put two and two together and got twelve."

Ryan smiled dryly at this. "No, I think I got four exactly. Because really, it's pretty simple."

"Then why don't you just spit it out already," said Shane quietly, standing so close the shorter man had to tilt his head back slightly to look him in the eye. "So I can shove it right back down your throat."

Ryan leaned back against the table, arms folded, pen still in hand. "Well, think about it, big guy. You know I'm better at my job than you are at yours - I mean, who doesn't know that - and so since we're on the same case, you think Quinta's gonna hand full authority to me." He continued on before the taller man could interject with the snide comment he clearly had ready. "So let me just give you some advice, okay? Give up. Roll over. And avoid all the embarrassment."

Shane was quiet for a minute, face unreadable. "So much attitude for such a small man. Really."

"Oh, just _imagine_ having to do what I say," persisted Ryan with a wide smile. "Imagine having to obey _my_ orders. Ooh, I think I just got chills. But you don't look too happy about that at all, do you?"

"Mm. I'm not. So thank God it'll never happen in a million years."

Ryan winked at him, still wearing the smile like a ray of sunshine. "Oh, I'll make sure it happens."

"You think?"

"I know."

Shane placed his hands on the table either side of the shorter man, moving forwards so that his face was inches from his, looking down his nose at him. "So you're looking to play dirty here, are you?"

Ryan's smile slipped only slightly, his own hands holding the edge of the table for balance as leaned back against it. "As I already said, Madej; keep it in your pants this time. If you can."

"And if I can't?"

"Then-"

"Okay! Okay, stop!"

The two men jumped apart as if Adam had fired a gun into the air, putting the whole room between them in a matter of seconds. Adam sat in the corner, curled up on the chair, laptop hugged to his chest like a teddy. His eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his head.

"What the hell, Bianchi?" Shane ran a hand through his hair, looking entirely bewildered. "What- Why didn't you say you were there?!"

"I thought you'd hear my teeth shattering since I was clenching them so hard!" He got to his feet, pointing at the two of them as he edged towards the door. "You guys are- you guys are unholy. I just- What the fuck."

Then he was gone, footsteps rapidly disappearing down the corridor. The silence lingered for a few long seconds. Shane inhaled deeply, throwing an almost disinterested look at Ryan before slowly raising his hand. In it was the list of items from the car, and the half-list Ryan had managed to scribble down. The shorter man froze, whipping around to look at the table, then back to look at him in horror.

"You son of a bitch, Shane." Ryan was looking at him like he was the Devil himself. "You absolute son of a bitch."

"I thought we agreed we were playing dirty. Which just happens to be my specialty, Bergara." He casually backed out into the corridor, giving him a single, expertly sarcastic wave. "See you on the flipside."

Ryan stayed where he was, with only a bit of an internal struggle. Adam could've only been in the room for one reason, and one reason only, and that was to finish up the warrant for the Jamisons' house. Which meant that he had to get out there, preferably tonight. Before Madej got wind of it, and came around sticking his stupid pointy nose into _his_ division's work. _Keep your stupid car and stupid little items, Shane. I've got a whole house to root through. I can play just as dirty as you can._


	3. Witches Don't Like There Black Cat Killed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a Banjo McClintock vs Ricky Goldsworth scenario no one would have expected

Well. Well this was a bit odd, he had to admit. Not the storage container in itself, because really, the tiny houses movement was taking off anyway. Shane read the spray-painted words again, hands on his hips, like he was studying a thought-provoking piece of artwork instead of the ramblings of a most-likely insane man. They hadn't noticed the graffiti at first; it was early in the morning, so early there were still stars twinkling in the black sky. 

 _3 CATS KILLED TO DATE BUY PEOPLE IN THIS AREA... WITCHES DON'T LIKE THERE BLACK CAT KILLED_.

"I mean, really," said Shane, glancing down at Sara beside him. "Learn basic grammar, right?"

"Yeah. Unless a twelve-year-old did it." She ran her torch along the black lettering again. "Actually, a twelve-year-old would probably have better grammar."

They'd found the container plonked in the middle of a clearing, where the weird mountain guy sent them. Apparently the Jamisons had been there to buy a 40-acre plot of land, to live on it. In a storage container. A little bit strange, but not _unheard_ of. As he'd already said, tiny houses were a thing, right? But they were usually nicely furnished, not just... empty. This one wasn't even insulated. The crunching of car wheels on the stones behind them made the two partners turn, expecting to find the rest of their team coming to join them. However, when the headlights turned off, it wasn't exactly who they were expecting.

"For fuck's sake," muttered Shane, seeing Ryan and Helen stepping out of the car in question. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Sara shrugged. She had debated whether or not to ring Helen and inform her of the discovery (since Shane clearly wasn't going to), but had had no reception out on the mountains. So it really was a bit of a mystery. 

"Ah, you finally found it, hm?" Ryan breezed right past the taller man, knocking on the metal, the dull echo from inside answering him. "Took you a while."

"It took us a day, Bergara." Shane still stood facing the car, hands on his hips, refusing to turn just yet. "What I'm wondering is how _you_ knew where it was."

"Oh, we questioned the mountain guy yesterday morning," replied Ryan lightly, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves as he moved to the entrance of the container. "He told us about it."

"Then why are you only here now?" He half-turned to glare at him as the shorter man yanked open the door, the metal scraping through the mud. "And what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm being useful," replied Ryan, flashing him a smile. "You should try it sometime." 

"Mm." Shane glanced at Helen and Sara, making sure they were preoccupied with whatever they were doing before following Ryan. "Hey. You didn't answer my first question."

The shorter man stared at him for a moment, as if debating whether or not to bother answering. "We just finished searching the Jamisons' actual house. So we were passing by anyway."

"You what?" Shane moved to follow as Ryan vanished into the container, ducking in after him. "What are you talking about? You got a warrant?"

"Mmhmm." Ryan flicked on his torch, shining it around the completely bare space in front of them. "I guess I'm just better than you. At everything."

Shane took a deep breath, staying by the door as his coworker ventured further into the container, only locatable by his echoing footsteps and the torchlight slicing through the darkness. "And did you find anything?"

A leisurely pause. "Yep."

"Well? What?"

Ryan shone his torch up on his own smiling face, like he was about to tell a horror story around a campfire. "Nothing of your concern, Mister Madej."

The sudden sound of claws on metal rang out, making Ryan start, his torch flashing wildly around the container as he fumbled to get a grip on it. He spun, eyes wide, only stopping as he heard Shane's loud laughter from behind him. He turned back to face him, seeing the man on one knee, petting a black-and-white sheepdog, whose tail was a blur it was wagging so fast.

"You idiot, Ryan." Shane shook his head, his hair bouncing as he did so. "Ha ha ha HA. If you hear that at your funeral, don't worry. It's just me. Laughing."

Ryan took a moment to calm himself, closing his eyes. "Firstly, you have a dog? And second, you brought it to work with you?"

"Hm? Oh, no. Banjo isn't mine." He grinned at Ryan as the dog placed its head on his knee, staring up at him lovingly. "He's the Jamisons'. Found him in their car."

"And you just took him?"

"I'm _minding_  him, Ryan." He shrugged, straightening up, the dog pushing itself onto its hind-legs to place its muddy paws on him. He didn't seem to care. "I just brought him home for a few nights. Not that it's any of your business."

"You can't just take someone else's dog, Shane!"

"As I literally _just_ said, Ryan, I'm minding him." He suddenly pointed at him, gesturing furiously at the dog with his other hand. "Go, Banjo! Go! Attack!" The dog simply sat down, raising an enthusiastic paw, which Shane firmly shook. "Agreed. We'll work on it."

Ryan rolled his eyes, throwing the taller man a lingering look of dislike as he passed by, unable to resist giving the dog a nice scratch behind the ear as he did so. "I'd prefer to work with the dog than with you."

"I'd say the same, but I already do work with a dog. It's you."

"Prick."

"Ooh, woof."

They made their way back across the slippery grass, towards where Helen and Sara stood swapping files and taking pictures of the site. Or more specifically, doing the job Ryan and Shane were supposed to be doing. The dog lolloped along beside them, sniffing the air, as happy-go-lucky as can be. 

"You tried getting the dog to find the Jamisons?" asked Ryan, watching it trot on ahead. "And how did you find its name? There's no collar."

"He's a bit like you, Bergara. Highly uncooperative." He smiled down at him. "And I just guessed his name. He looks like a Banjo to me."

"You know, I thought he looked more like a- like a Ricky." 

"Well, surprise! You're wrong."

Ryan raised his voice. "Ricky!" 

Much to Shane's horror, the dog came to a halt, ears pricked as it turned to look at them. "No. No, his name is Banjo."

"He seems to like Ricky." Ryan crouched down as the dog came over to him, keeping his voice bubbly as he gave the animal another scratch. "Oh yes, you like Ricky, don't you? So much more than Banjo. Banjo is stupid, yes it is, yes it _is_. You- Hey!"

Shane watched with a disinterested look on his face as Ryan pushed himself back to his feet, brushing at his now saturated shirt sleeve, a murderous look on his face as he turned to face the man who had kicked him over. The dog looked from one to the other, tongue lolling.

"What the hell, Shane?" Ryan shoved him back, sending him stumbling. "Don't fucking do that!"

"Do what? This?" He suddenly took the shorter man in a tight headlock, dragging him in a circle, feeling Ryan's hand pushing into his back as he tried to free himself. "Is this annoying, is it?"

"Get the hell off, Madej!"

"Say his name is Banjo!" He ignored the furiously struggling Ryan, still pulling him in a circle. "Say it!"

"No! Fuck you!"

"Hey, guys, stop!" Sara slapped Shane across the head with the files in her hand, distracting him enough to let Ryan wriggle out, Helen slipping between them. "Shane, get back in the car. You're fucking grounded."

Ryan was glaring at him, dark hair mussed, shirt collar rumpled. "I'm taking Ricky."

"I- Woah, what?!" Shane pointed over Helen at him, a stern scowl on his face. "You're not. Banjo's mine." 

"Fuck you, no he's not."

"Guys, you're going to drive the poor thing insane with these dumbass names." Helen patted her leg to get the dog to follow her to the car. "He can come back to the station. Because I don't trust either of you with another living thing."

"I'm good with animals!" insisted Ryan, still pulling at his shirt. The muddy dampness ran from his shoulder down his side, and along his arm too. It was highly uncomfortable. "At least I never froze my dead parrot for multiple months like a total weirdo."

"The ground was frozen and I was waiting for the spring to bring the thaw," snapped Shane, finally seeing the rest of his team appear in Andrew's car, the wheels squelching in the mud as they pulled up. "Why's half _your_ team in the car?"

"Because we're all supposed to be cooperating," said Sara, throwing a warning look over her shoulder at him. "As you've both clearly forgotten."

Ryan tilted his head back as he looked the taller man up and down with open abhorrence. The taller man stared back before turning to look at him more firmly, still not breaking eye contact. This continued on even as the doors of the newcomers opened and slammed closed, their voices mixing together as they greeted each other.

"What?" demanded Ryan, refusing to even blink. "What are you looking at?"

"You were looking at me first," said Shane in a clipped voice.

"Bullshit."

"Nuh-uh."

"Why are you still looking at me then?"

"Why are _you_ still looking at _me_ , hm?"

"Because you were looking at me first!" replied Ryan, lowering his voice as he realized he was bordering on shouting. "Stop looking at me."

"Does it annoy you?" Shane moved closer, leaning down so that he was looking directly into the shorter man's eyes, faces inches apart. "Does this irritate you, huh?"

Ryan suddenly flicked him on the nose, grinning as the taller man flinched away with a muttered curse. "Bad dog! Down!"

"You guys done with your weird fight-flirting?" asked Andrew casually as he and Steven wandered past them. "It's time to maybe, y'know, look around the place for any evidence of the Jamisons."

"Well, we're done with the fighting part, anyway," replied Shane with a wink.

"You wish, Madej." Ryan joined the other two in moving towards the storage container, ignoring the loud wolf-whistle from Shane as he did so. _Asshole_. "There's nothing in the container. Totally blank. Just that weird graffiti."

"You think that has anything to do with that Satanic bible thing in the house?" asked Steven, genuine interest in his voice.

Ryan nodded, giving him a sidelong glance. "Well, yeah. Definitely. I didn't wanna say anything though, because-"

"We'd laugh at you," grinned Andrew, seeing the fake-pout on his coworker's face. "Nah, this time it actually could be worth pursuing."

"Great!" Ryan smiled at them, a big beaming one, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "Yes! I'm finally getting a weird lead."

"Ryan's dreams have come true at last," said Helen, giving a small laugh as she joined them, the yellow crime scene tape in her hand. "All those stupid conspiracies in his head might actually come in useful."

He rolled his eyes at their obvious mocking, but it was friendly, fond. Unlike Shane's. "Whatever. I'm gonna look into that one, like, right now. I'll head back to the station."

"Yeah, sure. We're gonna hang around for a bit."

He was halfway to his car, seeing Ricky watching patiently through the window, when he saw the movement out of the corner of his eyes - Shane and Sara, just across the way, also apparently heading for their car. His upbeat mood quickly began dropping, even just at the sight of the taller man. He pretended not to see them, opening his door, pausing only when Sara spoke. He didn't mind Sara, she was fun. Good to have a laugh with. But her partner wasn't either of these things.

"Hey Ryan, you heading back?"

"Uh..." He wondered whether or not to lie, since there was only one reason she'd be asking such a thing. "Yeah. I guess."

"Great!" She stopped in her tracks, smiling back at the confused frown Shane threw her. "You can give Shane a lift. We took my car, but I don't want to leave yet. That good?"

"Saraaaaa." Shane said the name like a moody child, shoulders slumped. "Come on. Don't pull this crap on me."

"It makes sense," she shrugged, already turning away, waving over her shoulder. "Deal with it, boys."

For a long moment they simply stared at each other across the roof of the car, gazes equally flat. Shane stepped forwards, somehow pulling open the door contemptuously. It was a bit of a talent, really. Ryan simply shook his head, earning a raised eyebrow from the other man.

"Ricky's in the front."

"I-" Shane glanced down at the dog. Dammit, he was so cute, with his little fuzzy face. "Fine. But I'm doing it for him, not for you."

Ryan started the car, adjusting the rear view mirror to meet Shane's tetchy scowl. "Oh, give me a smile there, Madej. I'm in a good mood this morning."

"I won't ask why," said Shane dryly, elbow resting on the car door, his head in his hand. "Because I don't care."

"I wasn't gonna tell you anyway."

"Fantastic." He reached around the seat to pet the dog, feeling it nuzzle his hand. "I'm serious about you not taking Banjo, by the way. I will literally fight you. To the death. Not kidding."

Ryan shrugged, keeping his eyes on the bumpy dirt road. "So I'm basically guaranteed the dog, then."

Shane threw him a dry look, just about bordering on amused. "You're witty today, aren't you?"

"As I said, I'm in a good mood, Shane. Not even you can ruin it."

 _Ah. A challenge_. Shane felt the dog press into his hand as he scratched under his collar, an idea springing to mind. "Ooh, you like that, don't you? You like that spot?" He could hear Banjo's back paw thumping on the seat. "Oh, you _do_. Hey, Ryan. You have a spot like this too, don't you?"

Ryan's smile dropped slightly, his eyes landing on Shane's in the mirror. "No. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Where is it again?" Shane swapped seats, leaning forwards so that he was talking right into his coworker's ear. He lowered his voice to an almost-whisper, not quite quiet enough. "It's around here somewhere, isn't it?"

Ryan gritted his teeth as he felt the other man's fingers softly running along under his jaw, getting dangerously close. "No."

"Oh, I think it is," said Shane quietly, watching Ryan's hands tighten on the steering wheel as he got closer to the spot, just at the end of the man's jaw. "I remember _very_ well. I mean, you were just like the lesbian from _Scott Pilgrim._ " He let his other hand slip around the other side of the headrest, pushing his fingers through the man's dark hair. "You sounded like her too, I think." He kept his mouth against Ryan's ear as he began letting out low moans, letting them grow louder, harder, more breathless, and extremely convincing. "Oh my _God_ , yes, Shane, _ugh_ , just fucking- Right there, yeah, oh _fuck_ me, I'm gonna-"

"Shut up! I'm driving!" Ryan pulled his head away before Shane's fingers could make contact with the sweet spot they were aiming for, raising his shoulder to block any other attempts. "And really? In front of Ricky?"

"What? He's a dog, he won't care."

" _I'd_ care, Shane." He heard his coworker sit back in his seat, much to his relief. "I'd care, whether or not the dog was here. And put your seat belt on."

"Oh, whatever." Shane smiled as Banjo poked his head around the car seat to look at him, eyes big and brown and full of love. "You wouldn't care, would you, Banjo? No, I don't think you would."

"You're the actual bane of my life," muttered Ryan, finally turning onto a road that wasn't pure dirt.

"Funny, I always pictured myself more Batman-esque. And you my Catwoman, perhaps."

"I wasn't talking about Batman characters, Shane," replied Ryan, wondering how his eyes hadn't fallen out of his head he'd rolled them so hard. "And if I was, I think I'd be Batman."

Shane shrugged nonchalantly, smirking at him in the mirror. "Well, if you think I'm _sexy_ enough to be the Catwoman here, then that's cool."

Ryan arched an eyebrow. "So you think I'm hot enough to be the Catwoman in your life?"

"You know what? Yeah. I do."

He moved his eyes back to the dim road ahead, pressing his lips together to try and stop the smile from becoming too obvious. "Pants, Madej. Keep it in them." He had some actual work to do, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do YOU think the dog's name should be??


	4. Fifty Shades of Hate Letters

"It's stupid."

"No, it's not." 

Shane looked down at him from his perch on the edge of Ryan's desk, arms folded as he watched the man flip through the interview. "Look, I know you're a bit cracked, Ryan, but really? Witches?"

"I didn't specifically say witches," replied Ryan, raising a finger. "I said a cult."

"My original statement still stands." Shane leaned down as if to whisper, before saying the word so loudly Ryan jumped in shock. "STUPID."

"You're stupid," replied Ryan moodily, finally sparing him a glower. "Also, I don't care what you think. Since you haven't found any trace of them at all. Congratulations on being useless."

Shane rolled his eyes, leaning back on the desk as he spoke. "Listen, Bergara. We all know you love your spooky this and scary that, but be real here. It wasn't a damn cult who took them."

"Oh?" Ryan sat back in his chair, resting an arm along the back of it as he raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Well then, Madej. Hit me with your top theory as to who has them. And I'll try to act as if I care."

"I don't have a top theory as to who has them, Ryan." He shrugged. "Because they're dead."

"You don't _know_ that, though."

"I'm just being real here. Not clutching at straws like a dumbass." He smiled at the scowl that was thrown his way. "Look, it's been eight days. No sign of them. They're long gone. What we're looking for now are bodies."

"What you're looking for now is a punch in the teeth," muttered Ryan, a flat look on his face.

Shane grinned at him. "I do have a top theory as to what happened to them, though."

"Well since you won't just _leave_ , I guess I'll have to listen." He picked up his pen again, sitting forwards. "Or pretend to."

" _I_ think," began Shane as he lay his upper body sideways across the desk in front of the shorter man, a hand on his hip, the other propping his head up. "Is that they were involved in drugs, and they fucked up. It would explain the mysterious $32,000 not being filed with the IRS. And also, the mother said that the daughter was acting loopy, right?"

Ryan chucked the pen aside once he realized his coworker wasn't going to budge, folding his arms on the desk as he sighed heavily. "Look, Connie said Sherilyn was acting illogical, not loopy. And telling someone to get out of their car isn't exactly unheard of. I mean, I said it to you only last night."

"You and the crazy daughter actually have a lot in common, don't you? Being obsessed with stupid spooky shit, shouting at people to get out of your car, being five foot four-"

"Shut up."

"-I mean, all I'm really waiting for is an eleven-page hate letter from you." He tapped the pages he was lying on. "Get on that, would you? It could be my own personal  _Fifty Shades of Grey_."

"Disgusting, dude."

"What? I love the way you hate me, Ryan." He bit back a smile, raising an eyebrow at him. "Quick, tell me to shut up again."

"Fuck off."

"Eh, close enough." He frowned thoughtfully, as if reacting to some unexpected but not exactly unwelcome piece of news. "Actually, it's even better, apparently."

Ryan leaned forwards, giving the man a firm shove, sending him toppling off the desk with a yelp, half the contents of the desk following. "Oh look at the _mess_ you've made, Madej!" He cracked a grin. "Clean that up for me, would you?"

His coworker's eyes appeared over the edge of the desk, blinking flirtatiously, keeping his voice high, feminine. "Right away, sir."

"You guys are so fucking weird." Quinta was watching from the door, a look on her face like she was the weary single mother of the two children throwing food at each other across the dinner table. "Madej, go back to your own office, and stop annoying Ryan."

"Hey, I wasn't annoying him!" Shane got to his feet, hands on his hips, going from hyper six-year-old to stern father in a matter of seconds. "I was passing by and he called for me to come in! He wanted to show me the creepy bible thing."

"I wanted to show him that this is the only lead worth pursuing," corrected Ryan, also getting to his feet. "It has the most evidence. The pastor, Brandon, he said Bobby Dale _confessed_ to reading the damn thing. And that witch graffiti on the storage container? The erratic behavior of Sherilyn? In Connie's interview, she mentioned that the cult she suspected Bobby and Sherilyn were part of had a literal hit list."

"Fantastic, Ryan," said Shane dryly, still standing amid the various objects he and gravity had taken off his coworker's desk. "Any more circumstantial evidence you want to throw in the air?"

Ryan glared impatiently at him, arms folded across his chest. "Shut up, Shane. You just want to start something here."

"No, I'm trying to finish something before it's even started." 

"Shane, it does seem like something worth pursuing," decided Quinta, giving his moody look a warning one in return. "So stop trying to antagonize him, okay? And I don't know why you're grinning, Ryan. You're just as bad."

Ryan shared a dark look with Shane, straightening up with a loud sigh. "Fine. I'll work on it."

"You know what, Ryan?" The taller man moved to the desk, placing a hand on it, the other hand still on his hip. "I was actually gonna pick all that stuff up, and I was gonna make it all sexy and everything, but just for your cheeky comments, I won't."

"Oh, boo fucking hoo, dude."

"You don't know what you're missing out on, Bergara." He gestured flamboyantly at himself as he backed towards the door, seeing the small smirk tugging at the corner of his coworker's mouth. "Or actually, you do. A little bit."

"Mm."

"You've only tasted the appetizer, Ryan. Maybe one day I'll let you have-" He paused to give an Italian chef kiss, ignoring Quinta's tired sigh. "-the full dish."

"I'd rather not get food poisoning, thanks," replied Ryan flatly as he began picking up the pages that had fluttered off the desk. "Now get lost."

"Yes, Shane," said Quinta sternly, all in charge despite the fact she barely came up to the man's chest. "Get lost. In your work. Pronto."

"Sir yes sir."

She walked along beside him down the hall, taking multiple steps for each of his. "Look, Shane. I know you and Ryan are just messing around - I hope - but inter-office romances are... not exactly encouraged."

He smiled at this, raising an eyebrow. "Where'd you get 'romance' from?"

"You're distracting him," she said, her voice strict. "Bergara's a good detective. Focused. Disciplined, when it comes to his work. I want him to be able to work without you annoying him. Clear?"

"Quinta, come on." He paused at her office door - she had _two_ , one that lead to the corridor, and one to the main office - turning back with a serious look on his face. For once. "He's insane. He thinks witches kidnapped the family."

"He might actually be onto something this time, Madej." She raised her eyebrows, closing over her door. "Just leave him alone. And let him work."

Shane rolled his eyes as the door shut, continuing on through the corridors towards his own office. Witches and black cats and cults. The whole thing was daft. Bergara was going to do what he always did; waste a few weeks of everyone's time, before finally deciding to go with an actual plausible lead. Which Shane had, right now. Drugs. It was a drug deal gone awry, it had to be. Or maybe the father of Bobby Dale, Bobby Dean. They sure loved the name Bobby in that family. He'd heard a few strange things about the father, and his relationship with the son and the rest of the family. Maybe he should get someone to look into that.

"Bobby this, Bobby that," he muttered to himself, pausing as he heard the click of claws on wood. He smiled in delight as the dog bounded towards him, jumping up at him with enough enthusiasm to knock him a bit. "Hey, Banjo! C'mere, boy." The dog licked his hands, moving to his face as he knelt down. "God, your breath stinks, man. Get away."

Banjo sat, looking deep into his eyes, head tilted slightly to one side. And Shane stared back, still giving him a friendly pet. 

"Where's your family, hm?" Shane sighed heavily, pensively. "Where'd they go?"

* * *

"They wander the line between love and hate like it's a damn Olympic sport," commented Kelsey from her desk, reapplying her lipstick as she talked. "I mean, would you consider them friends, or enemies? Or some weird in-between?"

"Definitely the weird in-between," said Andrew, face hidden behind the newspaper he was scanning for any hint of gossip about the Jamisons. "What's that thing called? Frenemies?"

"One thing I've noticed is that they're literally always either fighting or flirting." Sara looked at her over her glasses as she tidied up her stuff, an eyebrow raised. "Have you ever heard them have a normal conversation? I sure as hell haven't."

"Me neither," said Steven, his pen floating above the page as he pretended to write. Quinta could pop her head out at any second. "I hate when you think they're just arguing, and you're all like ha ha, watching them, but then you notice that they're both a bit _too_ into it."

"It's some kinky shit alright." Kelsey put her hand in front of her face, fingers spread. "They get all in each other's face, and one part of me is like ew guys, stop, but then the other part is jealous that they must have some incredible sex."

"They haven't had sex," said Sara simply, earning open-mouthed looks of astonishment from her three coworkers. Even Adam raised his head at this. "What? They haven't boned. They just hooked up a few times. Shane told me."

"They haven't fucked?" Kelsey shook her head in stunned silence. It was as if she'd been told the earth was flat. "No way."

"Yeah. It's not _that_ big of a deal." She grinned at the shocked looks that still lingered on their faces. "I don't know if they ever will."

"They have to," insisted Kelsey, watching as Sara shrugged on her jacket. "I mean, what else are they gonna do?"

"Fight," said Andrew simply. "I'm telling you, it's gonna end with a round of fisticuffs."

"Nuh-uh, they'll bang." She spoke matter-of-factly, slowly rolling from desk to desk on her chair as she did so. "I bet it'll be hate sex."

"Ew, Kelsey." Sara pulled a face. "I don't want images like that in my head."

"Ryan's too proud," continued Andrew with a shrug. "And Shane's just toying with him. It's not gonna go anywhere. I-"

The white-tipped tail of a fuzzy friend appeared among the desks, making them all straighten up with bright smiles on their faces, already cooing and making kissy noises. Banjo sat in the middle of the desks, allowing himself to be petted, scratched, and generally worshiped.

"How come I don't get that reaction when I walk in, huh?" Shane had his own coat in hand, waving it at Sara. "You ready?"

* * *

It was late. Dark out. The woods were visible from the window of the incident room, splintered shadows stretching into the deep violet sky, rolling across the mountains in inky waves. Ryan's eyes were still watching the CCTV tape for anything, anything that could explain the behavior of the Jamisons. It was odd. Unsettling. He'd shown his team already, and they'd agreed that something was definitely off. Spooky. Ryan let it play one more time, the footage flickering slightly on the old television. Who the hell still tapes stuff on _videos_ , for God's sake?

The sound of Shane's stupid voice made him straighten up, heading to the door and pulling it open just as his coworker was passing by. The taller man paused, frowning at him, halfway through taking off his jacket. And as per usual, Shane spoke before he could, straight in with the snark.

"What are you doing in a dark room by yourself, Ryan?" He finished slipping off his jacket, raising an eyebrow at how the shorter man's eyes quickly flickered down his body as he did so. "You looking for company, are you?"

Ryan ignored the suggestion, glancing up and down the corridor with a puzzled frown on his face. "Who were you just talking to?"

"Oh, Banjo." He gestured back down the hall. "Sara just took him off to the kitchen to feed him. Can I go now?"

"No. I have to show you something." He stepped aside, sweeping an impatient hand into the room. "Come on. And stop looking at me like that."

"What are you up to?" Shane stayed where he was as the shorter man shut the door behind him, no light in the room but for the small, boxy television screen. "And where'd you find that relic, huh?"

"The CCTV was only recorded on a video cassette, so I had to kick this girl back into action." He rewinded the footage right to the start, the brightness from the screen hurting his eyes. "This is from the Jamisons' house, the day they left. It's them packing their car, in their garage."

"Right." Shane sat back against the table, chucking his jacket onto it as he did so. "It actually _is_ something important. I'm pleasantly surprised."

"Shut up." He moved to stand beside the taller man, just about able to make him out in the dim light from the screen. "Watch. No running commentary either, thanks."

"Just me, and you, and the silence." His smile was audible, although his eyes were, surprisingly, watching the screen. "Got it."

A few minutes passed, Shane watching the footage, and Ryan watching Shane. The taller man pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Bored.

"Do they do anything?" He turned his head to meet the shorter man's gaze, folding his arms across his chest. "What am I supposed to be looking for here?"

"How long have they just been standing there, hm?" Ryan fast-fowarded the tape, one minute, two minutes, Bobby Dale and Sherilyn barely moving a few inches. "They're just standing. Doing nothing. Weird?" 

Shane was quiet for a moment, looking from Ryan to the screen, and back to Ryan. "Yeah. Weird. But where are you going with this?"

"You could almost call it trance-like, right?"

"Oh for God's sake, Ryan." He straightened up, his scoff impatient, derisive. "Don't start with this shit. Being stuck on night duty with you is hard enough without your stupid theories being thrown in my face every five seconds."

"Of course." Ryan threw the remote onto the table, hands on his hips as he glared at him. "I was expecting some resistance. As always. So why don't you give me a theory stamped with the Madej Seal of Approval, hm?"

"How about, oh, I don't know..." Shane leaned down, Ryan having to tilt his head back to keep eye contact. "Not witches."

"I didn't fucking _say_ witches, Shane. _You_ said witches. I said cult."

"Not ghosts," continued Shane, as if the shorter man hadn't even spoken. "Not aliens. Not goddamn fairy dust."

"Oh fuck you anyway." He turned away, taking the tape from the video player, the screen flashing to the fuzzy black-and-white of no reception. "God, you're such a dickhead. I don't even know why I try."

"You don't try, Ryan. Suggesting stupid theories like this isn't considered trying." He watched the shorter man's vague silhouette as he angrily put the cassette away, fumbling for the case in the dark. "So sorry to have to break the news to you this way."

Ryan was silent for a moment, the white of his shirt betraying his location as he stood a few feet away. "One of these days, you'll get the punch in the face that you've been literally _begging_ for. And I hope I'm there to see it."

"See it?"

"Or do it."

"That there," said Shane, tapping the video in the shorter man's hands. "is two people off their faces on some hallucinogenic drug. As I literally said to you this morning."

"Piss off, Shane." He brushed past him, gritting his teeth as he felt a hand tighten on his elbow, pulling him back. "Oh you did _not_ just-"

"Manhandle you? Mm, I actually did, so, yeah." He let go as Ryan turned to face him fully, snatching the video from his hands. "You send this to Brent yet?"

"Don't fucking-" He stopped himself, letting his hands fall back to his sides, his exhale sharp. "No. Not yet."

"So you haven't even sent it to Behavioral and you're out here jumping to conclusions." He rolled his eyes, pretty certain he could hear the shorter man grit his teeth as he did so. "Classic Ryan. I'd say that in a fond way, if I didn't hate you."

There was silence for a long moment. "Asshole."

"You're so easy to get going, Ryan. It's almost cute."

" _Asshole_." The word was said with more vehemence this time, sounding as if a push or shove should've accompanied it. Which it surprisingly didn't. "Don't talk to me for the rest of the night. I mean it."

"Oh no, am I getting the silent treatment? How will I- Hey! You could've just _asked_ me for it." He glared at Ryan as the shorter man headed for the door, video in hand. "Don't forget to bring that to Brent, yeah? Wouldn't want to be getting all biased here, like literally every other case."

"Oh my _God_ , Shane! Shut up!" He paused with the door a teeny bit open, the shine off his eyes clear as he glared back at him. "You're just so- You're so-" He gave up looking for a word hurtful enough, just throwing the door open, storming out into the bright corridor with the air of a frustrated teacher who just couldn't take anymore of their stupid students, muttering curses as he did so.

Shane followed to the doorway, leaning back against it, watching as his coworker flew off down the corridor at a rate of knots. "I'm gonna check with Brent in the morning, Ryan! So make sure you give it to him!"

Ryan half-turned, using the video to point threateningly at him, his other fist clenched by his side. He didn't speak, however. Just fumed silently for a long moment before continuing on, vanishing around the corner. Shane let out a long sigh, folding his arms across his chest as he stayed leaning against the door frame, half in the dark room, half in the bright corridor. _What a little idiot_. The fact Quinta was even considering taking the guy's stupid cult theory seriously was pretty maddening, he had to admit. To himself. He'd never admit it to anyone else. 

"Ryan!" he called casually, rubbing distractedly at the scribbled pen on his hand. 

For a minute, he thought that the guy actually wasn't going to come back. Then he did, appearing around the corner to stand in the middle of the corridor. A bull facing the matador. He was silent, waiting for Shane to speak.

"WHAT?" he demanded, throwing his hands into the air in furious bewilderment. "What do you WANT?"

"To give you something." He began wandering down towards him, hands in his pockets, all unconcerned nonchalance. "Am I allowed?"

"Depends on what you're giving."

"Oh, just something that'll blow your stupid cult theory out of the water."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him as he got closer. "Then just come here and give it to me."

"Oooh, Ryan. Say that again. Except with more... _force_." He grinned at the unamused look on the shorter man's face. "Not in the mood?"

"Never in the mood." He folded his arms across his chest, fingers tapping against the video case impatiently. "Come on, Shane. One minute you're busting my ass about getting this to Brent, and now you've decided that it's time for a little fun?"

"That's ninety-nine percent of our dynamic here, Bergara." He shrugged, letting his eyes drift across the wall behind the shorter man, as if he wasn't even thinking about what he was saying. "But Quinta was on to me about not distracting you with my irresistible charm and general seductiveness. For which I suppose I should apologize."

Ryan waited. "And are you going to apologize?"

"Oh, most definitely not." 

"You know what? It's okay." Ryan smiled, seeing the suspicion appear on his coworker's face. "Because at the end of the day, you're not distracting me. It's me distracting you."

Shane raised an inquisitive eyebrow at this. "Is that so?"

"Well, you're always coming to me, Shane." He kept smiling, even as the taller man finally came to a halt barely a foot away. "Not the other way around."

"I'm always coming to you."

"Yep."

"Alright." Shane was looking down at him with a vaguely entertained smile. "Give me an example."

"Earlier on today," shrugged Ryan, as if the answer was obvious. "In my office."

"You called me in," he said quietly. "I was just passing by."

"Your office is literally across the building."

"I was using the photocopier, Ryan."

"Oh yeah? And what did you photocopy?"

"This," he said, fumbling in his pocket, frowning. "It's in here somewhere, I know it is... Yeah, here we are." He took his hand from his pocket, raising it and flipping the shorter man off right to his face. "Right here."

Ryan's smile slipped slightly, teeth clenching, his eyes still fixed on the taller man's. "Hilarious."

"Yeah. I can see how entertained you are." He stepped around him, pausing at his shoulder to mutter one last word. "Idiot."

Ryan turned his head away, glaring at the floor, taking a deep breath in an attempt to cool himself down as he heard his coworker sauntering off down the hallway. "You said you had something to give me."

"Well, I've changed my mind," came Shane's voice, the footsteps still sounding as he continued on. "Video. Brent. Be snappy about it. And don't look to your right."

He immediately looked to the right, cursing as he found they'd been standing right beside the storage closet from the office party. _God fucking dammit._  Is it possible to literally despise a room? Ryan half-turned to watch the taller man amble off down the corridor, whistling a happy little tune, not even looking back. God, the guy was insufferable. Ryan took another deep breath, letting it out slowly, staying where he was until his heart returned back to normal speed. He marched off in the direction of Brent's office, which was thankfully the opposite direction to Shane's. He'd had his fill of Shane for the next few hours, most definitely. But soon, one or the other of them would get bored, and come looking for the guaranteed entertainment that the other would willingly or unwillingly provide. As was the pattern, day-in, day-out.

But something's gotta give, right? With or without the help of a cult.


	5. An Exercise in Self-Restraint

"It wasn't a drug deal." Ryan pushed open the door to the dark kitchen, turning on the light. "It's just not plausible. Unless Sherilyn and Bobby Dale usually brought their dog and their six-year-old daughter with them."

"That's a fair point." Helen wandered into the room behind him, hands in her coat pockets. "It does seem a bit weird."

"Exactly! I just wish Shane would see that." He glanced around the Jamisons' kitchen, as if hoping that the family would jump out from under the table yelling 'surprise'. "I can't even bring it up with him. He just- God, you should hear him. He-"

"Makes you sexually frustrated? Yeah, we all know."

"He _doesn't_ ," replied Ryan defensively, turning to scowl at her, hands on his hips. "He just annoys me."

"Yeah, if that's what we're calling it now." She raised an eyebrow at him as she moved further into the empty room. 

Well, actually, the room wasn't exactly empty. It still had all the furnishings of a house being lived in; books on the table, crockery on the counters, messy finger-paintings on the wall. Really, these little things just made the house seem even more empty than if they weren't there. They reminded the two cops of the family that did live there. That should be living there.

"Just look for anything like that bible, yeah?" Ryan pulled on a pair of rubber gloves before beginning to open the drawers, rifling through them. "And any sign of that briefcase. And Sherilyn's gun."

"I still can't believe you got Shane to show you the list." She moved to the bookshelves, head tilted sideways as she scoured the titles. "I thought I'd have to go and get it for you."

"Mm. Yeah."

Thankfully, she didn't follow up his vague answer. Mainly because the specific answer was bad. Not that he wouldn't do it again. He'd taken a leaf from Madej's own book, and decided to turn on the charm. So he'd adjusted his appearance as he made his way towards the man's office; unbuttoning a few more buttons than necessary, rolling up his sleeves, mussing up his hair, before casually wandering into the room, leaning against the door frame, arms folded. And he really had only intended to get the list of items from the Jamisons' car. He just hadn't intended to push his luck so far. Shane had been seated at his desk, his hand resting over his mouth as he studied the map of the hills in front of him. He glanced up at the movement by the door, his look of disinterest vanishing almost instantly, replaced by a stare which could only be described as riveted, with just a dash of surprise, and a whole lot of suspicion. Shane was very glad indeed that his hand was still casually covering his open mouth.

"You know that list you had the other day?" began Ryan, as if entirely unaware as to what he was doing. "The one with the stuff from the Jamisons' car?"

Shane didn't reply for a long moment. "Mm."

"Any chance I could borrow it for a bit?"

His coworker simply stared for another long moment. "No."

"Aw. Okay." He wandered further into the office, pretending not to notice Shane's eyes glued to him as he distractedly rubbed at his chest, pulling the unbuttoned part of his shirt, baring a tiny bit more skin as he did so. "I kind of need it. Bad." He sighed heavily, almost wistfully. "Really bad."

Shane let his hand drift off his mouth, his fingers remaining under his chin to hold his head up, like a businessman studying an intriguing proposal. "I see."

Ryan stopped in front of his desk, smiling his most enticing smile as he leaned on it. "You know, the bit of beard suits you."

Another suspicious pause. "Thanks."

"But I always preferred your hair a bit messier." He casually put out a hand, pushing his fingers through Shane's thick hair, the man's head tilting back with the movement. "It's hot."

Shane's deep inhale was audible as Ryan's hand moved lightly from his hair down the side of his face, ending with a finger just under his chin, holding his head up, keeping their eyes locked. "...Ryan, you fox, you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," shrugged Ryan with another charming smile. "I just came in here to ask my coworker for a document I have dire need of."

"And you know what? You can actually have it." Shane pulled open a drawer in his desk, taking out the folded page and holding it out for the other man. "As a prize for turning me on so quickly. I'm honestly impressed."

"I had no intention of the sort, Madej."

"But," said Shane quietly, bringing his hand back so that the page was out of Ryan's reach. "if you come in here again looking like that, _or_ acting like that, then I'll have to respond appropriately. Because believe me, I am _very_ much restraining myself here, Ryan. We clear?"

Ryan smiled crookedly at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, yes. Crystal."

He let the shorter man take the list, his eyes wandering over Ryan's body, lingering on the open collar. "You should go. Now."

"Don't tell me what to do, Shane." He straightened up, his coworker sitting forwards as he did so, biting on his bottom lip as his gaze moved up and down Ryan's body. "Especially in that voice."

"Ryan." He fixed his eyes on the shorter man's, clearly with a lot of difficulty. His voice was low, warning. "Don't try and start what I think you're trying to start."

"I'm not trying to start anything." He used the list to fan himself, pulling at his shirt collar, almost baring his whole shoulder. "Wow, it's hot in here, isn't it?"

Shane's eyes were stuck to him, the blatant hunger in them bordering on ravenous. "Absolutely roasting." He had one arm on the desk, map crumpled in his fingers, the other hand holding the side of his chair in a white-knuckled grip. "I'd say the corridor is a lot cooler. You should check."

He didn't want to leave quite yet; this was actually pretty fun. "You think there might be something in here that'd cool me down?"

"There's only one thing I can think of right now, Ryan. And it definitely won't cool you down."

"Oh?" He kept his face naively curious, blinking at him. "What're you thinking of?"

"Enough with your wily ways, Bergara." He gave a dry smirk, teeth catching on his lip. "Away with you."

"But it's just so damn _hot_ in my office." He ran a hand through his dark hair, keeping his eyes on Shane's as he tilted his head back, leaning forwards on the desk, unashamedly provocative. "Too hot to concentrate."

Shane sat back in his chair, chest rising as he took a deep breath, letting it out through his mouth. He wasn't smiling anymore. He was just staring at him, one arm draped over the back of his chair, the other hand tapping out an agitated rhythm on the desk. He looked... on edge. Physically uncomfortable, as he adjusted his seating, taking another quiet breath. And it was then Ryan realized; the guy wasn't just messing anymore. He was really and truly turned on. By him. Ryan grinned, resting his elbows on the desk, head in his hand.

"So, Shane." He distractedly traced circles on the crumpled map, keeping his eyes on the taller man's. "Penny for your thoughts, yeah?"

Shane shook his head, a slight flush across his face. "Stop."

"C'mon. Just an idea as to what you're thinking about." He pressed his lips together to try and hide his smile. "Right now."

"My thoughts right now, is that what you want?" Shane finally got to his feet, hands pressed against the desk as he leaned forwards so that their noses were almost touching, still watching him like a man dying of starvation would look at a three course meal. "I could go through them for you. Every. Single. Meticulous. Detail."

Ryan smiled as the taller man's eyes drifted down to his mouth. "Really?" 

"Oh, really." He swallowed, voice quiet. "...I could even demonstrate them for you."

Ryan paused, his heart fluttering slightly. Right. He had to either leave _right then_ , or end up having this whole thing backfire horribly in a matter of seconds. He could feel Shane's breath hot on his mouth, alarmingly close. _No, Ryan. Don't_.

He suddenly shrugged, turning away, hearing the frustrated mutter of a curse from Shane as he did so. "Meh, I'm kinda busy right now."

"You're playing a dangerous game here, Bergara." Shane's eyes were narrowed as he watched Ryan stand in the doorway, buttoning up his shirt to a more work-appropriate amount. "Very dangerous."

Ryan simply raised the list, giving him a wink. "Thanks for your cooperation, Shane. It was sweet while it lasted."

And then he'd left, feeling very upbeat, and very proud of himself. He'd basically just _seduced_ someone, and the someone in question didn't even particularly like him as a person. It was a stupid thing to praise himself for, but also pretty harmless. Or so he thought.

"The bedroom is completely empty," came Helen's voice, very loud despite not even being a shout. "No briefcase, no gun."

"Oh?" Ryan stood at the door to the utility room, swallowing as he stared into the cramped shadows. He flicked the light switch; nothing. "Didn't the Jamisons think they had ghosts? Four ghosts?"

"Three to four," came the reply. "C'mon now, Ryan. It's not true."

"Yeah, yeah. I just-" He froze as the lights in the room suddenly went out, plunging him into pitch blackness. "H- Helen? That you?"

No response. Oh God, he could hear something. He could hear movement, just in front of him, making him back up against the wall. Footsteps. Oh God.

"Helen!" He couldn't barely hear his shout over the sound of his heart racing in his ears. "Helen, come here! Helen!"

"What? What is it?"

Oh fuck, that was definitely from outside this room. There was someone here, there was some _thing_ here, he could hear it, he was gonna fucking die here oh fuck.

Before he could register was he was doing, he lashed out, his fist connecting with what didn't exactly feel like a spiritual apparition. He heard a loud cough, then the sound of objects falling as something heavy stumbled against them. A short silhouette appeared in the doorway, the lights flicking on.

"God fucking dammit, Shane!" Ryan let himself slump back against the wall, as if he was the one who had just gotten a suckerpunch to the gut. "Holy fuck, don't _do_ that!"

The guy was on all fours amid various utensils, still breathing heavily, erratically, not helped by the fact he was laughing at the same time. "Y- Your reaction... is fucking worth it... you dumbass."

"That's not fucking funny!" Ryan saw Sara appear behind Helen, the two of them unsuccessfully stifling their laughs. "You all suck. I'm quitting."

"Good." Shane pushed himself back to his feet with a muttered curse, still holding his stomach as he took his phone from his pocket, holding it up. "Yeah, keep scowling at me like that. Oh, perfect." He turned the screen towards his coworker to show the photo. "I'm gonna add it to my scrapbook. Think I'll call it 'Ryan's Stupid Face'." 

"I think you should call it 'Ryan's Face Before He Knocks Me Out'." 

"I think you should call it 'Help, We're Crushing On Each Other But Don't Know How To Handle It'," said Helen lightly, smiling at the glares thrown at her.

Sara grinned. "I personally think it should be called 'Oh No, My Coworker Is Hot And We Hooked Up Multiple Times But We're Both Too Stubborn To Do Anything Now'."

"What about 'Two Coworkers Pretend To Fight: You Won't Believe What Happens Next!'" She paused. "You fuck. That's what happens next."

Sara's attempt at hiding her laugh failed, her snort causing Helen to start giggling uncontrollably. "What about 'How Can I Get My Sexual Tension Under Con-"

"Shut up!" Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a terrible headache, which he basically did have. "You're both wrong. And stupid. And annoying."

"Well they're not exactly _wrong_ , Bergara." Shane looked pensive for a moment. "And personally, I think the second one is my favorite."

Ryan didn't reply, just stood where he was, a hand covering his eyes like he would literally do anything to be anywhere else. He heard the click of a photo being taken, opening his eyes to glare at the taller man. Shane gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up, showing him the photo. 

"Honestly, Ryan, you're a natural."

"Get out of my face, Madej." He slapped at the phone, feeling the taller man push back. "Delete those. Delete them!"

"Why don't you just do it yourself, huh?" He held the phone above the shorter man's head, like teasing a dog with a treat. "One, two, three, jump!"

"Fuck you!" He shoved him again, getting a shove right back, hearing Helen and Sara raise their alarmed voices simultaneously. "Don't touch me, you dick."

"You pushed me first," replied Shane sharply, giving him an accompanying shove in the chest. He got one back, twice as hard. "I swear to God if you-"

Sara and Helen pushed between them, holding the two men apart; a few pushes could easily turn into a lot of punches, as was the first lesson in How To Be A Cop 101. Ryan glared at the taller man, who scowled right back, any trace of jollity suddenly gone. It was like that. He and Shane would have a bit of a laugh, usually at the others expense, but it would only take two seconds for the fun and games to be over and the competition to begin. One accidental word, one change in tone, and it would just flip. Sara and Helen shared a subtle look; they both knew well that Ryan and Shane had a slightly stressful relationship, but they'd never let their verbal sparring become physical before. Not seriously. It was a bit worrying, and they suddenly didn't find the situation funny anymore. The silence lingered for a few long seconds.

"Why are you even here, anyway?" said Ryan into the quiet, all haughty disdain, turning away first as he headed back into the kitchen. "The place has already been searched. Me and Helen are just here to look for the missing briefcase. And gun."

"Me and Sara came to try and find the original restraining order Bobby Dale had against his father," replied Shane, his tone making it clear that he didn't exactly want to be there either. "I could've just asked _you_ to try and find it. If you'd told me you were coming."

"Well I could say the same to you, Shane. And you never told me about any restraining order."

"I was going to give the copy I got from the lawyer to you last night, but then you pissed me off. So blame yourself." Shane placed his hands on his hips, holding the shorter man's fierce glare. "And I was never told about any missing items."

"They're in the CCTV footage. But not on the list. So I thought maybe they'd be around here." He gestured vaguely towards the kitchen behind them. "They're not. And I didn't tell you because you're a dick."

"You didn't tell me," he replied sharply, keeping his voice low as he let Sara and Helen move on. "because you were too busy selling yourself like an office whore in return for my cooperation. Hope you're proud."

Ryan narrowed his eyes up at him. "I wasn't selling myself, you idiot. It's not my fault you're so weak."

A long pause. Ryan didn't look away, despite the apprehension rising slowly in his chest under the taller man's penetrating gaze. Maybe he shouldn't have said that.

"Oh, Ryan." Shane's tone was dangerously soft, the words somehow making Ryan feel both threatened and emboldened at the same time. "I'd take that back if I were you."

"Nah. I don't think I will."

"Last chance, little guy. Take it back."

The shorter man kept up the nonchalance, even as Shane stood to separate him from Sara and Helen's view, a tad too close for comfort. "Nope."

"Good. I was hoping that'd be your answer." He threw a sidelong glance at the two preoccupied women before leaning down to whisper directly into Ryan's ear, his hand lingering on the other side of the shorter man's face, his thumb brushing his stubbled cheek. His voice was a hushed whisper, hot against his skin. "Because I'll show you exactly who's weak here."

 _Fuck_. Ryan stayed stock still, even though the chills that shot through him felt like they could've been measured on the Richter scale. "You think?"

"I know." He kept his mouth against Ryan's ear as he spoke, his hand still resting against his face, his other hand beginning to travel down his stomach, fingertips pushing into him. "Don't flinch, now. You wouldn't want to seem _weak_."

"Shane." He grabbed the man's wrist, keeping his hand away from his belt, feeling Shane smile as he did so. He felt the thumb brush across his cheek again, almost fondly. "Maybe try and be professional. For once in your life."

"You have a little tremor in your voice there, Bergara. Might want to get that checked out."

He moved his head back to look him in the eye, their faces inches apart. "You wish."

"I-"

The high-pitched shriek of a telephone made them jump apart, hearts skipping a whole lot of beats. It continued trilling, twice, three times, four times. Helen and Sara appeared back in the doorway, frowning at the house phone demanding attention on the kitchen counter. For a moment, the four cops simply shared looks ranging from concerned to curious. Who would be ringing a family that had been missing for over a week? Shane stepped forwards, reaching for it.

"Hey, no." Ryan slapped his hand away. "You're not good at the talking. I'll do the talking."

Shane raised his eyebrows in genuine disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"Oh my God, shut up." Sara swiftly picked it up, putting it to her ear. "Hello?"

She was silent for a long moment, her face dropping, mouth slowly opening in shock as the seconds passed. A notepad and pen were taken from her pocket, and she quickly scribbled something down, still looking dazed. She suddenly turned her head to look at Ryan and Shane, pen freezing, wide eyes flitting from one to the other, mouth still hanging open. Ryan frowned, Shane raised an eyebrow. This went on for another few long seconds. Then she lowered the phone, still staring blankly at them. 

"What?" Helen looked from her to the two men, a curious eyebrow raised. "What is it?"

 "A- A witch?" She still sounded positively stunned, her eyes still wide. "She said she was a _witch_. I- She asked for you two."

Shane and Ryan looked equally puzzled, staring back at her in silence.

"What do you mean?" asked Shane, hands on his hips. "She's obviously just some crazy woman."

"She asked for you by name," said Sara in a quiet voice, handing the piece of paper to him; an address. "Both of you. First and second names. She said to go and visit her."

Ryan was staring at her with a horrified look on his face, too spooked to even utter a word.

"So we're definitely _not_ going to do that," said Shane with a shrug. "So-"

"She said they're coming." Sara looked highly uncomfortable; the conversation had clearly weirded her out. "I don't know who 'they' are, but she said she could help you guys. Well, she said she could help _you_ , Ryan." She turned her eyes back to Shane. "But she said she needed you to be there too. She was pretty adamant about that. Said you're on a wrong trail or something?"

Ryan straightened up at this. "Wait, what? Did she say anything else about him?"

Sara paused before saying the next bit, very dryly indeed. "That he needs to see he's wrong."

"Right, we're going."

"Not a chance, Bergara." Shane shook his head firmly, ignoring the glower thrown at him. "She's clearly insane. And it'll just be a massive waste of time."

"But how did she know your names?" asked Helen. "How did she know we were even here?" 

"Exactly. She definitely knows something about what's going on. Maybe she even knows what's happened to the Jamisons." Ryan looked up at the man beside him, raising a challenging eyebrow. "Unless you're too scared to admit you might be wrong."

"Ryan, the day I admit I'm wrong to you is the day I literally shoot myself through the face." He paused. "In fact, I think I'd rather shoot myself through the face than admit being wrong to you. So yeah. You will literally never hear the words come from my mouth."

"We're going."

"You know what? Fine." He began moving towards the door, speaking over his shoulder to the shorter man. "But we're going by the station to get Banjo."

"Huh?" Ryan followed, leaving Helen and Sara to share weary looks, like two exhausted babysitters. "What? Why?"

"I've been trying to teach him to attack you on sight. I want to see if he's got it down yet."

"You're unbelievable." 

"I didn't think you'd find anything unbelievable, Ryan." He headed towards his car, hearing his coworker crunching through the leaves behind him. "I mean, you're you. You're voluntarily going to see a crazy woman about a missing family, as if she'll be any use at all."

"Then why are you coming, huh?"

"So I can be there to witness your humiliation first-hand."

"Ah. Of course."

They came to a halt at the bonnet of the car, turning to look at each other with equal distaste. Slowly, a smile spread across Shane's face. A lazy gesture, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to laugh at a joke. Ryan narrowed his eyes, jaw clenching.

"Oh baby. I love it when you look at me like that, Bergara." He took his keys from his pocket, not taking his eyes from the shorter man's as he unlocked the car. "Really gets me going."

"Well you're very easy to get going, apparently." Ryan turned away, heading around to the passenger door, his voice light, nonchalant. "I barely even had to touch you earlier."

He heard the other man give a sharp, dry laugh. "Yeah. And I can't even deny it, Ryan." They opened their doors in unison, simultaneously sitting into the car. "Which is the worst part. I'll admit."

"And the best part?"

Shane raised an eyebrow, starting the engine. "Oh, just that split second when I noticed that you wanted it just as bad as I did."

Ryan snorted, folding his arms across his chest, the headlights lighting up the house as the car turned onto the dirt road, heading back towards town. "Yeah, no. I don't think so."

"We'll see, Ryan." He allowed himself a smile, a distracted look in his eyes as he stared straight ahead. "We'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is gonna have a cameo from a certain BFU Supernatural lady wooooo


	6. Meet in the Middle

Ryan leaned against the car door for a long moment to try and calm himself, hearing Shane letting Banjo out from the back. He'd started calling the dog 'detective', and now that he looked closely, he could see Brent's lanyard around the dog's neck. Ryan closed his eyes to take a breather; Shane was just infuriating, especially right now. Mainly because for the entire car ride he'd shouted along, passionately, to _Come And Get Your Love_. Word for word. Harmonies and instrumentals included. Tapping out spontaneous drum solos on the steering wheel, only getting louder whenever Ryan yelled at him to shut up.

"You got lucky there, Bergara." He came around the car to join him, the dog trotting over to give Ryan a friendly sniff. "The next one was _I'm Not In Love_ , and I really get into that one." 

"Shut the fuck up, dude. Your voice is like a literal cheese grater on my brain right now." He headed towards the house at the end of the street, hearing Banjo's paws tapping the concrete beside him. "I can't believe you have the entire _Guardians of the Galaxy_ soundtrack downloaded."

"It's a sweet-ass soundtrack, man. Don't fight me on that." A low beep as he locked the car, following his coworker up the driveway. "Yep. This place already looks stupid."

Unfortunately, he was right. The house stuck out among the rest on the street. It was painted in purples and greens that probably used to be glaringly bright, but were now dull, the paint worn and chipped. The porch was strewn with dozens of wind chimes and strings of beads, some sparkling new, some looking like they were plucked straight from a dumpster. The worst bit were the dolls, though. Little wooden statues, perched along the wooden railing, carved eyes glued to the two men standing at the bottom of the steps. Ryan refused to look at the taller man beside him; he could already see the deriding smile on his face. Ricky wandered onto the porch, snout hovering above the dusty wood, his tail giving a nervous wag.

"Well, Ryan." Shane moved first, swinging his car keys around his finger as he took the steps up to the porch. "This sure seems like a place where a sane and reliable woman lives."

"Shut up."

Shane stopped at the door, half-turning to throw a scornful look his way as he gestured at the doorbell. "You can do the honors. I'll even give you a boost."

Ryan glared murderously back as he joined him, the dog wiggling in between them, waiting patiently for the door to open. "Yeah. Funny."

But before he could ring the doorbell, the dull purple door was yanked open, so suddenly the two men stepped back in unison. The woman looked from one to the other; she was short, squat, with bleached blonde hair that stiffly fell past her shoulders. The silence lingered for a second or two.

"Shane. Ryan. And dog." She stepped aside to let them in, Ricky accepting the invite immediately. "Please, come on in."

"Yeah, before we do that," said Shane slowly, placing a hand on his coworker's shoulder to hold him back. "Who are you exactly?"

"I am initiated as the _mambo asogwe_ in Haitian voodoo," she replied in her relaxed drawl, gesturing at the statues and jewelry, which continued on down the hallway behind her. "Which translates to high priestess. But I call myself Bloody Mary. Please, _entrez_."

"Let go of me, Shane," muttered Ryan, shrugging his coworker's hand off his shoulder. "How did you know about us?"

"Simon told me," she said, nice and simple.

"Simon?"

"Oh, he probably told you his name was Jonathan."

"Ah, the mountain man." Shane followed his coworker into the hallway, breathing in the strong smell of incense and burnt-out candles. "Well there's the answer to the mystery of how you knew our names."

She smiled as she closed the door after them, shutting the daylight out. She raised her hands into the air, as if greeting some invisible friend. "Spirits, this is Shane and Ryan."

"Oh God." Shane's shoulders slumped as he followed the two believers into the sitting room. "Here we go."

Ryan took the offered seat on the dull, plush couch, Ricky bounding up beside him, laying his head on his lap. "So... You wanted us to come here. To help us, or something?"

"To help _you_ , Ryan Bergara." She turned her black-lined eyes to Shane, who remained in the doorway, arms folded. "And part of that is to do with this guy."

"Yeah, 'this guy' has a name," said Shane dryly, ignoring the warning scowl Ryan threw at him. "And a belief system that doesn't revolve around ghoulie ghosts and such. Sorry if that's an issue here."

"Don't be an ass, Shane." 

"No, he can believe what he wants," said Bloody Mary calmly. "In the end, what is true is true."

Shane raised an eyebrow at this. "How about we just get on with this whole thing, maybe."

She clapped her hands together, seated on the single armchair in the corner. "He's right. Let us begin. I knew the Jamisons, I knew Bobby Dale and Sherilyn well. They were interested in what I do."

Shane stepped into the room at this, finally looking remotely interested. "Oh? Why?"

"They just seemed to be curious."

"Did they act strange?" Ryan was watching her closely as he gave Ricky's snout a distracted rub. "Say anything weird?"

She nodded. "Yes, they spoke about a cult they were a part of. I think Connie told you already."

"You knew Sherilyn's mom?"

"Only at a distance." Bloody Mary gave them a serious look. "The cult are quite active around these parts, but their activities take place mainly in the woods. Hence the reason Simon gave you his fake name. Doesn't want the cult checking up on him."

"What kind of cult?" Ryan sat forwards, clearly riveted. "A religious one?"

"White supremacists." She smiled dryly. "I suppose they probably call themselves Christian or the sort."

Shane shook his head, looking very much disgruntled. "Great. We're dealing with crazy racists now."

"But they do the whole thing, boys."

Ryan swallowed. "What do you mean? Like, the full-on cult thing?"

"Rituals, chants, blood sacrifices, all of it." She turned her eyes to Shane. "And even though your skepticism is admirably unrelenting, you have to soften a bit here, Shane Madej. These people are dangerous."

"Yeah, Shane." Ryan raised an eyebrow up at him. "Stop being a stubborn idiot."

"The people in this stupid cult are just as dangerous as any other crazy white people," he replied flatly. "I'll take this seriously because they might actually have done harm to people. Not because of any little prayer circles or whatever."

"You don't know what they're like." She looked from one to the other, folding her hands on her lap. "But you boys need to meet in the middle."

"Huh?"

"You're both at opposite ends of the spectrum." She pointed a red-painted nail from Shane to Ryan. "You intellectualize too much, while you get too stuck onto the supernatural elements of things. What's coming is unusual, but is a true danger. It's the center of the spectrum. And you need to be aware of that."

"Look, lady, we appreciate your cooperation and all that," said Shane dryly. "But this is a serious police investigation. Do you know what happened to the Jamisons or not?"

"No. But I've seen them." Her voice went hushed, secretive. "In the flames."

"Alright Melisandre, relax."

"Shut up, Shane." Ryan sat forwards, all rapt attention. "What did you see? Where are they?"

"They're gone."

He closed his eyes, pressing his lips together in a firm line as he sighed in disappointment. "Fuck."

"Ryan, cop on, man." Shane rolled his eyes, hands on his hips. "This is all a bunch of baloney. Sorry, lady. No offense intended."

"Why do you think they're gone?" continued Ryan, not budging quite yet.

She gave him an approving look. "Turn on your television tomorrow, at nine. You'll find answers."

"What? How do you know?" He stared at her, wide-eyed. "Did you see it in the flames?"

"The television guide." She pointed at the magazine. "They're doing a special on cults."

"No, enough of this." Shane glowered at her, gesturing at Ryan. "Look what you're doing to him. He looks like he's gonna cry."

"You want to go," she said coolly, looking at the taller man. "Your aura is showing me."

"Uh, I think my attitude is showing you." He patted his leg to get Banjo to hop down off the couch. "Ryan, come on." 

"Yours is so red," she persisted, looking at him with eyes that were suddenly a bit too sharp for his liking. “I see it around you, a deep, clear red. You’re grounded, realistic, clear-headed, strong-willed. You’re competitive, passionate about the things that interest you. And you’re a sexual person. Yes?”

He raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit more interested than a few minutes ago. “I suppose. And hell yes to the last one, isn’t that right, Ryan?”

“But you can change at the drop of a hat," she said, seeing his face drop. "You can let your anger, your irritation just take over, without you even realizing.”

He paused. “Maybe.”

“ _You_ are more orange, a sign of vitality, of vigor." She was looking at Ryan now, who was obviously very much convinced by the whole situation. "A perfectionist, yes? But creative, intelligent, optimistic. You have lots of energy, lots of stamina-”

“I kind of wanted to find that out myself,” grinned Shane, bathing in the red-faced glare he got from Ryan.

“-but you find that you’re also competitive, you don’t back down easily. Which would explain the color where your auras meet." She raised a thin eyebrow. "And the turbulence."

Ryan cleared his throat, Ricky’s fur soft in his hand as he continued giving him a distracted scratch. “What does it mean?”

"Ryan," said Shane, his tone reprimanding. "Come on. This is a load of crap."

“It's bright yellow, glaringly bright, like a fire.” She nodded slowly, wisely. “Yes, you have a fiery relationship, don’t you? But you also have a fear of losing each other’s interest. A fear of losing the prestige, of losing the respect that the other has for you.” She paused. “But there’s a little gold there. Gold means inspiration. You inspire each other, encourage each other to work harder. Am I on the right track?”

The silence was more than enough of an answer. Shane spared a quick sidelong glance at his coworker, who was suddenly very interested in the dog sitting in front of him, keeping his head ducked, face hidden, as he petted him. Bloody Mary smiled at them, a knowing smile.

“You boys are in for an interesting time if you stick around together,” she said, still grinning. “Lots of fun and games. But a lot of danger. You have to protect each other.”

Shane arched an eyebrow at this, Ryan finally getting to his feet. "Yeah, I don't think that'll ever happen. But thanks for your advice, no matter how useless it was."

"Shut the hell up, Shane." Ryan gave her an amicable smile as she went to show them out, his face still slightly flushed. "Thank you. For your help." 

The walk back to the car was oddly... quiet. Ryan hugged his coat tighter around him; it wasn't exactly cold, but he felt uncomfortably chilly. Shane gave his beard a distracted scratch, fixing his shirt collar over the neck of his jumper. He stopped short, realizing he was fidgeting. Why was he fidgeting? Was he nervous or something? Banjo waited patiently by the car, tail wagging, blissfully unaware of the turmoil of thoughts coming towards him. 

“That wasn’t- That wasn’t  _true_ ,” said Ryan, lingering by the passenger door. “Anything she said. Auras are bullshit.”

“Yeah. Totally.”

“You don’t inspire me. I don’t work harder because of you.”

“Yeah. And I’m not afraid of- of losing your interest and respect.” He swallowed, finding he couldn’t hold the shorter man’s gaze for more than two seconds at a time. “Or whatever she said.”

“I don’t believe in auras anyway.”

“Me neither. Total bullshit.”

They sat into the car, both looking very distracted, and very unsettled by their respective thoughts. Ryan cleared his throat, biting at his lip as Shane started the car, pulling away from the house.

“I’m not a perfectionist,” said Ryan into the silence, unsure of whether he was talking to himself or to his coworker.

Shane opened his mouth to object, before realizing that he couldn’t object, or else he’d be agreeing with the woman’s aura-reading. Which he could  _not_  do. “Uh, no. No way. And I don’t let anger take over.”

Ryan paused for a moment, thinking of all the times when he’d seen Shane switch from bubbly to icy in a matter of seconds due to his irritation. “Nope. So I guess she was full of shit.”

“Definitely.”

It was silent then. Silent but for Shane tapping out an agitated rhythm on the steering wheel, and Banjo snuffling at the window. Shane turned on the radio to fill the silence, immediately regretting his decision.

_“I’m not in love… so don’t forget it…”_

The two men sat staring straight ahead, identical looks of concern on their faces. Shane wanted nothing more than to turn the music down, but then that would show that he was listening to the song, and if he could just pretend he wasn’t, then it wouldn’t be as awkward. Right?

_“It’s just a silly phase I’m going through…”_

“Uh, just gonna change this,” he laughed hesitantly, hitting the next song. “Don’t like that song anyway, really.”

_“Nowhere to run to, baby, nowhere to hide!”_

Shane pulled a face; remotely better, but still a touchy subject. At least the beat was less… sad? Ryan still wasn’t looking at him, just staring straight ahead, chewing on his lip.

_“How can I fight a lover, that shouldn’t be, when it’s so deep!”_

“Can you just… change it?” asked Ryan, his fingers fidgeting on his lap.

“Uh… Yeah, sure.” 

_“Keep on running, keep on hiding... One fine day I’m gonna the one to make you understand, oh yeah I’m gonna be your man! Keep on-”_

“I think I’ll just turn it off,” said Shane quickly, swiftly doing so. “Stupid. Stupid songs.”

Ryan had his arms folded so tightly it was a wonder they didn't break off. God, the silence was painful. And it was still another twenty minutes until they got to the station. Maybe he could just get out and walk? But it was getting dark out, that'd just look daft. He sank lower in his seat, just wishing Shane would do what he usually did, and start talking shit. Start an argument. Start _something_.

"Maybe put it back on," said Ryan into the quiet, turning it on himself. "Just to the radio. Might be-"

_"...don't touch me, please, I cannot stand the way you tease! I love you though you hurt me so-"_

"Nope," said Ryan instantly, hitting the off button before sitting back in his seat with a forced laugh through gritted teeth. "So many songs about fucking love and stuff, right?"

"It just doesn't make sense," said Shane suddenly, fingers rising off the steering wheel to emphasize his condescension. "I mean, she just sees colors or something? She's probably off her face on LSD."

"Yeah."

"A high priestess of Haitian voodoo?" Shane scoffed. "She was white, for God's sake. She didn't exactly look Haitian to me."

"I mean, I don't even have any respect for you in the first place," said Ryan, aware he was pretty much lying. He _did_ respect the guy. He just didn't really like him. He respected his determination, and he appreciated his devil-may-care attitude every now and then. He just hadn't realized until that stupid woman pointed it out. "And you're not remotely interesting."

Shane gave a dry laugh, finally sparing a sardonic smile in his direction. "Right. Well that's fine, since I don't give a shit about your opinion on literally anything."

"Good! Because I don't care what you think about my opinion."

"Great."

"Yeah."

"Fucking fantastic," said Shane a bit harshly, glaring at him. "But just to let you know, I-"

"Red light, you idiot!"

Shane slammed the breaks, the car screeching to a halt just over the pedestrian crossing, Banjo yelping as he slid off the seat. Ryan turned in his own seat with a concerned gasp, checking that the dog was safe, unhurt. Shane was too busy gripping the steering wheel just a bit too tightly, his head resting against it as the cars passed back and forth in front of them, completely unaware of the narrowly-avoided disaster that sat in the form of two cops and a dog.

"God dammit, Ryan!" He hit the steering wheel, not lifting his head. "If someone had been crossing the road I would've fucking obliterated them!"

"Oh that was _my_ fault?" He sat back in his seat, hands covering his face, taking a deep breath. "Just drive. Just fucking drive."

"If you hadn't kept just talking total shit I would've been looking at where I was driving."

"Shane, I'm serious." He lowered his hands to deliver him what could only be described as a death stare. "Drive."

"As long as you keep your stupid little idiot mouth shut." A car honked behind them, alerting them to the green light. "Okay, man, Jesus!" Shane waved a hand at them before continuing on, still very obviously irritated. "Just- Just shut up. For once."

"Don't tell me to shut up," said Ryan fiercely, still looking daggers at him. 

"Shut the hell up, Ryan."

"Shane."

"What?" he demanded, a clear challenge in the word.

"If you tell me to shut up one more time," he said quietly. "I'll-"

"Stop barking and finally bite?" Shane kept his eyes fixed on the road, his smile dry. "Because I'll be honest and say I don't think I'd mind right now."

Ryan shook his head, folding his arms across his chest in an attempt to hide his deep breathing. "Jesus Christ. I think I actually want to murder you."

"You usually feel like that when you're _excited_?" said Shane, the emphasis making it clear he didn't just mean it in the everyday sense of the word. "Is murder a kink for you, huh?"

"It might be with you."

"Oh, Ryan. I'd let you murder me any day." He grinned, raising an eyebrow at his coworker. "Preferably by strangulation. If we're onto kinks here."

"Of course you're into that crap." Ryan almost exploded with relief at the sight of the station, sitting back in his chair. "You can never just be normal, can you?"

"My aura is red, Ryan. I'm a sexual man now."

"Just park the damn car."

* * *

 

They'd separated almost instantly after they'd left the car. They'd both had more than enough of their fill of the other. Shane took Banjo with him to his office, sitting down and deciding to maybe actually look into the cult stuff. And it had gotten interesting, pretty swiftly. A bunch of white supremacists hung around the woods, high enough in the mountains. There were reports of burnings, animal sacrifice, other dodgy rituals. And what's more, a lot of their members seemed to either stay with them forever or just disappear. Never heard from again. He pulled off his jumper, chucking it onto the desk, loosening his tie, settling in for a long ol' search.

He'd been sitting for an hour or so when he heard the knock on the door. Loud. Impatient. He didn't need to guess.

"Dying for my company so soon, hm?" Shane looked at him over the computer screen, arching an eyebrow. "I can't say the same."

"Sara said she found the original restraining order," said Ryan flatly, not moving into the room. "She's gone home. Asked me to give it to you."

Shane sat back in his chair, elbows resting on the arms. "Then come here and give it to me."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at the mocking callback. "Don't start with me right now, Shane. I'm still mad."

"Quit dawdling, Bergara. Give me it."

"I can't. It's in my office."

Shane was silent for a moment. "And why exactly is it in your office."

"Because I want to look at it." He stood with his hands on his hips, all pompous contempt. "Since you wouldn't show me."

Shane watched him, face unreadable. "I'll give you five minutes to go and get it and bring it back here. Do you understand me?"

Ryan swallowed at the cutting voice, stepping into the room. "No, I don't think I do. Could you repeat it for me?"

Shane's eyes followed him as he shut the door, crossing the office to his desk. "What are you doing, Ryan."

"Selling myself," said his coworker, the words tinged with bitterness. "Like an office whore. Isn't that what you said?"

The taller man didn't reply as Ryan circled the desk, straddling him in his chair, aggressive, demanding. "That's exactly what I said."

"You know..." Ryan pushed his fingers through the other man's soft hair, just hard enough to pull his head back slightly. The perfect angle. "I didn't like it when you said that."

Shane's mouth parted as Ryan pushed himself forwards against him, their faces dangerously close. "Well I don't really feel like apologizing."

"Mm." Ryan kept his fist tangled in the taller man's hair, holding his head back. He felt his coworker's warm hands slip up under his shirt, resting on his waist, thumbs pressing into his skin. "Shocker."

"Right." Shane moved forwards, sitting more upright, having to tilt his head back to keep his and Ryan's mouths so close. He could feel the fingers still gripping his hair, holding him at the right angle. "So you still think my post-sex hair looks good, do you?"

"I don't know," mumbled Ryan against the man's lips, feeling the breath hot on his mouth, the hands tighten on his waist as he pushed up on him. "I've never seen it."

Shane's gaze was lowered, his heart skipping multiple beats as Ryan pressed closer against him, their lips brushing, just daring the other to give in first. "But you want to."

"Well, I don't know," replied Ryan quietly, feeling Shane's chest moving as he inhaled deeply. "I-"

"It wasn't a question," said Shane in a low, cutting voice. "Quit joking around. Just do it."

Ryan suddenly found it very,  _very_  hard to not just go for it. And for a moment, it seemed as if he was actually going to. He adjusted himself against the taller man, hearing his coworker give a quiet sigh. Then he simply sat back, Shane moving forwards with him, like he was a man dying of thirst and Ryan was the last glass of water in existence.

"Actually, no," shrugged Ryan, smiling as he saw Shane close his eyes at the words, his jaw clenching. "I've been working on, oh, I guess maybe keeping our relationship professional? I mean, you wouldn't want to get caught up with the office whore now, would you. And if you think you're not weak, then it's all good, right?"

"Ryan." Shane gritted his teeth as he was pulled more firmly against Ryan's body, his coworker almost distractedly adjusting them so that their heads were side-by-side. "If you're trying to do something here..."

"And I think I might've actually got it down," continued Ryan thoughtfully, resting his arms on Shane's shoulders like he was just a piece of furniture, the man's hair soft against his cheek as he nonchalantly rested his head against it. "Not even really a struggle, in the end." He made sure to keep shifting his hips as he sat against him, hearing the sharp inhale, the shaky exhale.

"Ryan." Shane's voice was quiet, bordering on desperate. His hands were still firm on his waist, feeling the rocking movement under his fingers. "Don't."

"What's that? I can't really hear you." Shane's breath was hot on his neck, mouth grazing up it, stubble scratching his skin. "You're kind of mumbling a bit."

"I-" He swallowed, as if the words were leaving a sour taste in his mouth. "I'd like it... if you'd just not- not do this to me. Right now." He sounded like he was in actual pain, eyes squeezed shut as he took a deep, steadying breath. Ryan brushed back so that their lips were just about touching, his hands holding Shane’s face, feeling him swallow. It would take less than a second to just turn into a kiss, if Shane went for it. Which he wouldn’t. He _wouldn’t_. "...I’m not going to- to _beg_ you, Ryan. If that’s what you’re looking for here.” 

“But you want to,” replied Ryan in a low voice, mimicking the other man’s. “More than I do.”

He felt the shaky breath from the taller man as he pressed forward as if to kiss him, their parted lips still touching, needing only the appropriate movements to become more. Ryan opened his eyes slightly, finally seeing the look on the other man’s face, the internal struggle clear in the pained expression. Hm. He pulled Shane’s head forwards, a convincing move that once again ended in, well, nothing. He let himself feel a tiny bit proud as he felt the muttered words against his lips, Shane’s hands tightening on his waist.

“What was that?” said Ryan quietly, pausing for a split second as he felt the taller man readjust his hips underneath him. “Did I hear the word ‘please’ in there?” 

The mumbled reply was delayed. “No.”

“Did you just say ‘Ryan, please’?” This was fun. This was _fun_. For the first time in probably ever, Shane was basically putty in his hands. “Because if you did, all you have to do is say it a tiny bit louder, and I’ll give you what you very obviously want.”

“I don’t- I’m not saying shit.” He kept his eyes closed in an attempt to stay focused, raising an eyebrow. “And I’m not going to. I’m not.”

“All I really need are three little words, Shane.” He moved forwards as he spoke, Shane’s head tilting backwards as he did so; he could feel the man’s deep, rapid breaths on his lips, as if he’d just run twenty miles, chased by a bear. “Just three: ‘You win, Ryan’.” 

A dry smile pulled at the corner of Shane’s mouth, his eyes still closed, as if opening them would break whatever restraint he still had left. “Not gonna happen, Bergara.”

“Last chance.”

A pause. “Is it?”

Ryan smiled wryly at this. "See you tomorrow, Madej." He gave the man a light pat on the side of the face before standing up, Shane's hands sliding off him with just a bit of resistance. "Sweet dreams!"

He glanced back as he got to the door, seeing Shane sitting forwards with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of his hanging head. He seemed to notice Ryan hadn’t quite left, raising his head slightly to give him a look that was half murderous, half blatantly aroused. Like he’d get just as much gratification from killing him as he would from fucking him. It was a look that made Ryan hesitate just for a few seconds before he stepped outside, closing the door after him, and heading back to his office.


	7. Just Like The Notebook

“He  _what?_ ”

“Sara, it was so fucking hot.” He uncrossed his legs, mimicking holding someone sitting on his hips. “He sat on me like this, okay? And he was all pushing up on me, like a damn stripper, and I’m gonna be honest and say I don’t think I’ve ever been so horny in my entire life. Ever. And then he was all running his fingers through my hair like this, and-”

“Shane, slow down a second.” She had her eyes closed, a hand raised for silence. “You sure this was Ryan?"

"Oh, I am _sure_."

She blinked, unable to picture the guy in the situation being described to her. "...That kind of sounds like sexual harassment. In the workplace.”

“Look, there’s a fine line between sexual harassment and something amazing,” said Shane with a wink. “And that is consent. And that is not a problem here.”

“Does Quinta know?”

“I- No, Quinta doesn’t know!” He looked at her like she was a madwoman, accepting the cup of tea that was pushed into his hands. “Mainly because I don’t know what’s really happening quite yet. I didn’t know he’d be so- so damn  _sultry_.”

“You want to bang him,” she said flatly, more of an observation than a question.

“Only sometimes,” he corrected, raising a finger. “I still think he's a pain in the neck, but sometimes... You have no idea." He blew air out through his mouth, staring into his tea. "God, you really don’t.”

“Then just go for it.” She sat on the chair beside him, turning to face him, coffee mug halfway to her mouth. “It sounds like he wouldn’t exactly say no.”

“I can’t give in first.” He said this firmly, sternly, as if reminding himself as well as her. “I won’t. He didn’t even kiss me. He just like…  _teased_  me.  _Taunted_  me. Like I was a- Like I was-”

“Relax for a second there, yeah?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I don't know why you seem so happy about it. It sounds like he’s just being a total dick.”

“He is,” said Shane in a hushed voice. “And I love it.”

“God dammit, Shane.”

“I love it when he gets all mean.”

“Shut up. Weirdo.” She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of coffee. “I'm gonna be honest and say I don't think I've ever heard Ryan being mean. To anyone."

"It's hot. It's annoyingly hot." He paused. "It makes me feel all _A Little Less Conversation_ , you know?" 

"Yeah. I get it." She failed in hiding her fond smile, shaking her head. "So what’s your end goal here, Shane?”

“Get him to make the first move. Then some hot, furious sex on the nearest desk.”

“Really.”

“Oh yeah, baby. Just really-” He raised a hand, clenching it into a fist. “-go at it. Just fuckin’ plow.”

She tilted her head slightly, a concerned frown on her face. “Are you- Are you horny right now?”

“A tiny bit. Yes.”

“For God’s sake.” She got to her feet, heading back to the sink. “You’ve literally made me lose my appetite for coffee. That’s how bad you are.”

“You guys ready?” Steven poked his head around the door, jacket in hand. “I know we’re all very excited to find and hopefully incarcerate some white supremacists, right?”

“Hell yeah.” Sara poured her coffee down the sink, ignoring Shane’s grin. “So who’s going again? Me, you, Shane, Helen, Ryan, Brent?’

"Oh, Brent can’t find his lanyard,” said Steven with a shrug. “So Andrew’s coming instead.”

“Did Brent check with a certain mutt?” asked Ryan dryly, appearing in the doorway beside Steven. “The six-foot one or the furry one, it doesn’t matter.”

“Good morning to you too, Ryan.” Shane raised his cup of tea at him in an almost formal manner, raising an eyebrow. “I see you’ve lost your razor. Or is that an attempt at the lumberjack look?”

“And I see you haven’t heard of a comb, apparently.”

“Oh, I know that some people like my hair a bit on the messy side.” He paused thoughtfully. “Actually, I think the last comb-like object to touch my hair were a certain someone’s fingers.”

“Okay, enough,” said Sara quickly, stepping in to cut through their eye contact. “Come on, guys. Concentrate on the task at hand, yeah?”

“This is why I wanted to bring Brent,” muttered Steven to Andrew right behind him. “He’d just suck all this weird tension away. _Schlurp!_ Human sponge.”

“There’s no room for another guy,” shrugged Andrew. “I mean, Ricky takes up two seats. As is his right. Plus, they’ll focus once we’re out there.”

“Yeah. If they’re both gagged and blindfolded.” Steven paused. "Which I guess wouldn't really work, because then they wouldn't be able to see... You know, they'd probably still focus better blind than being able to see each other."

Andrew glanced back between Sara and Helen at where the two men bickered, tuning out Steven's blabbering as he watched Shane and Ryan trading barbed comments, back and forth like a verbal boxing match. They never did anything else, really. So why did Ryan voluntarily wait for Shane to come out in order to walk with him? The whole thing was astounding, and he was very glad to not have to be part of it. 

“A floral shirt? Really?” Ryan shook his head, hands deep in his jacket pockets as they headed down the steps outside the station. “You look like an idiot.”

“What I look like is a tourist lost in the woods. Which is meant to be our cover, if I remember correctly.” Shane grinned down at him as they walked, giving the shorter man’s cap a quick flick. “This makes you look like a little boy. Is that why you threw out your razor?”

“You look like a tourist who should be lost in Hawaii,” shot back Ryan, readjusting his cap with a scowl. “Not in the middle of the mountains.”

“I guess I’m just a really,  _really_  lost tourist.” He paused by Helen’s car, not breaking eye contact as the shorter man yanked open his car door, revealing Banjo already parked in the back seat. “Not sharing my car, no?”

“No." He smiled at him, leaning on the open door. "I don’t want to be forced to listen to your screeching again. Delightful as it was.”

Shane smiled wryly, raising an eyebrow at the shorter man as he turned away. “You look good today, Ryan. You look good.”

Ryan watched the taller man saunter away, off towards his own car, where Sara, Andrew and Steven waited patiently. "Yeah. You too."

"Ryan." Helen leaned over onto the passenger seat, raising an eyebrow up at him. "You good there?"

He sat into the car with a distracted nod. "Uh-huh. I'm good."

She pulled out of the station's parking lot, smiling to herself. "A little birdie told me someone was acting very _Magic Mike_ last night."

He froze, face flushing. "I- Who? Who said that? Because I didn't. I wasn't."

"Ryan, you dog." She grinned at him, seeing him give the tiniest smile as he turned his head away. "I'm gonna be honest and say I'd never have expected you to do such a thing."

"He started it," said Ryan instantly. "Yesterday. He basically challenged me."

"To what?"

"I don't really know." He shrugged. "Either way, I'm not losing." 

She rolled her eyes. "Of course."

He was silent for a minute, staring out the window, wondering if he should ask the question on his mind. "...Was Shane talking about it?"

"Apparently so." She snuck a glance at him. "You're _proud_ , aren't you?"

"No," he scoffed, the reply a bit too quick to be convincing. "Don't be dumb."

But he was. Stupidly enough, he was proud. Impressed with himself, more specifically. He'd made smooth-talking, quick-witted Shane almost melt in his hands. Almost. Not quite. But he had to stay sharp, because now it was Shane's move. And that had him feeling both excited and on edge.

* * *

"Anything?"

"Nope!" Shane straightened up, hands on his hips, squinting at the clouds beginning to darken through the trees above. "Anyone check the weather?"

Andrew shook his head, appearing from around a large, leafy boulder up ahead. "Nah. But it's definitely gonna rain."

They'd wandered pretty far up the mountains, where the foliage started getting a bit thicker, wilder. Untouched by human hands. A few birds squeaked in the branches above, hopping around, alerting each other to the group meandering through the trees.

"Might want to keep your arms by your sides, Shane." Ryan grinned at him from further up the small hill, the top half of his body visible over another small gathering of rocks. "The birds might mistake you for one of those talking trees from Lord of the Rings."

"They're called Ents."

"Whatever." He spared a glance at the sky, raising an eyebrow at the broiling clouds. "It looks a bit stormy, right?"

"How long have we been walking?" Sara checked her phone, blinking in surprise. "Shit, it's been two hours."

"Right, let's scramble." Steven began hurrying back downhill, clearly very eager to get going. "I'm not getting caught in a storm out here. No way."

"I think we can all agree on that." Helen waved at Ryan, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. "Hey, Ryan! We're packing it in!"

"Just let me get to the top!" he called back, clambering up the slick rocks. "I might be able to see something!"

Shane shook his head, gesturing at Helen to not bother calling him again. "You guys head back. I'll get the little idiot."

He didn't wait for an answer, taking long strides up the leafy hill, clapping his hands for the shorter man's attention. "Yo, Ryan! Come on, man!"

"Just five more minutes! I'm almost at the top."

"Don't go all Bear Grylls on me, Bergara." He paused. "Bear-gara Grylls. Haha."

No response. Shane stood at the bottom of the dirt-covered rocks, leaning on them with one hand, the other on his hip.

"Did you hear that, Ryan?" he called. "I made a funny nickname for you."

"Yeah, yeah, I- ooooO _OOOH_ GOD! Shane! SHANE!"

"What?" Shane began pulling himself up the rocks, rushing to the top, breathless by the time he made it. "Ryan? Are you okay? Are you- Oh my Lord."

He let out a delighted laugh, clutching the stitch in his side as he did so. He wasn't too sure what he was laughing at; the disgruntled embarrassment on Ryan's face, or the rope holding the man upside down by one leg, six feet off the forest floor. Ryan glared at him, his jacket hanging off him like an upside-down cape.

"Well look at this." Shane came to a halt barely a foot away, for once not having to bend his neck so much. "I know I said you’re the Catwoman to my Batman, but maybe you’re the Spiderman to my Mary-Jane, huh?”

“Shane, shut up. Get me down.“ He kept one hand on his cap, holding it on his head. "What if the branch breaks?”

“You fall, I guess. Maybe break your neck. Maybe even bust your head open!" He chuckled, looking the man over. "Really, the possibilities are… well, not quite endless. But  _delicious_.”

“Shane. I’m not messing around anymore.” He used his other hand to tuck his shirt firmly into his belt, feeling very much vulnerable as his coworker let his gaze trail over him. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like- You know!”

“Well, sorry, Ryan,” shrugged Shane, a small smile spreading across his face. “It’s not my fault your, oh how do I phrase this appropriately… It’s not my fault your hot piece of ass is currently being dangled right in front of me.”

“Shane, stop it.” He could feel himself flushing, both from his coworker’s words, and the blood rushing to his head. “If- If I pass out-”

“I won’t have to listen to your annoying voice anymore.” He lightly pinched Ryan’s cheek, grinning as the man slapped his hand away. “Oh, you want me to go?”

“No, no, Shane, stop. Don’t fuck me around here.”

“But you seem to be implying that you don’t want me here or something. And I’m all about cooperation.”

“Shane, do  _not_ walk away! Shane!” He suddenly reached out, grabbing a fistful of the taller man’s thick hair, pulling him back. He swung slightly as he moved, making his heart leap. "Get me down!”

“Get off me, you son of a bitch!” He pulled at the hand in his hair, wincing as it just hurt even more. “Jesus Christ, Bergara! Let go!”

“Get me down!”

“If you don’t let go of me  _right now_ -”

A crack silenced them, their gazes moving up to look at the splintering line appearing through the branch far above.

“Oh no.” Ryan’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh no no no  _no_ -”

He felt the branch give, the rope going slack. For a split second, he was weightless. Then he felt two arms under him, the first one catching his shoulders, the second under his knees, Shane grunting slightly under the sudden weight. Ryan opened one eye, his arms tight by his sides, fists clenched, ready for what he had been sure was going to be a rough landing. Really, he would've preferred to have just plummeted to the forest floor. 

“Don’t worry, my lady.” Shane grinned down at him, a charming smile. “I got you.”

“Oh God.” Ryan kicked out to get the taller man to release him, dropping to the forest floor, thankfully upright. “You’re such a jerk.”

“I literally just saved your life.”

“You didn’t save my life, Madej.”

“I saved you from a potentially grievous injury.”

“I wouldn’t have even walked into that stupid thing if you hadn’t been yelling at me!"

“Oh, it’s always someone else’s fault, isn’t it?”

“More specifically, it’s always  _your_ fault!” Ryan stormed past him, ignoring the glare fixed on him as he did so. “Don’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”

“Oh no. How will I manage?” He raised his voice as the shorter man got further away, vanishing through the trees. “I just love your company so much, Ryan! I can feel myself on the verge of tears already!”

Nothing but silence answered him. He sighed heavily, impatiently, turning back around to look at the trap that had fallen to the floor. Who the hell would put a hunting trap so far out in the mountains? It was literally the middle of nowhere. And if that had been able to hold up a fully-grown - or  _almost_  fully-grown - man… What type of animal were they expecting to catch? Suddenly, he didn’t really want to be alone.

“Ryan?” He began following the direction the other man had done in. “Or anyone else, preferably?” 

He caught up with the shorter man swiftly enough, feeling the rain beginning to spit down on them. Ryan didn't look back, eyes glued to the trees ahead, hands in his pockets in an attempt to keep them warm.

"Weird trap to have out in the mountains, right?"

"Shane, I don't want to hear it," replied the shorter man immediately. "I don't want your mocking, or mimicking, or general douchebag attitude right now."

"I'm being serious, Ryan," he said sharply. "And also fuck you. You're really not even going to thank me?"

"For what?" said Ryan moodily, scowling at the ground as they walked.

"For bothering to go up there and check if you were alright!" snapped Shane, beginning to wish he'd brought more than a denim jacket with him. 

"Thank you, Shane. For being a decent human being for once in your life."

Shane shook his head with a furious mutter, ignoring the glare thrown at him. "You know what? I don't even know why you don't like me. I've never done anything to you."

"Wait, wait, hold on." Ryan stuck a hand out for silence, giving him a warning look. "You really want to get into that? Right now?"

"Into what?" 

"Why we don't like each other."

"Now's as good a time as any, Ryan," he replied flatly. "And we have a long walk home. Or swim, at this rate."

"Well I don't want to get into it," said Ryan simply. "So, there."

"There isn't a lot to get into, though, is there?"

"Meaning?"

"We don't like each other because we're-" He paused, searching for the words. "Because we- I don't know. There's too much tension."

"No there isn't."

"Ryan, don't try and lie here." He ducked under yet another grasping branch, growing increasingly envious of the other man's height. "You want to fuck me. And I want to fuck you. But we-"

"I do _not_ want to fuck you, Shane," he interrupted, defiance making each word fierce. "I-"

"So what was that last night then, huh?" He came to a halt as the shorter man did, the rain beginning to really tip down from above, pattering on the leaves. "Just a little fun and games, was it?"

"Yeah. It was."

"It wasn't," said Shane heatedly, stepping forwards, feeling the rain begin to trickle down his face. "You were going to make a move, Ryan. For a second. I saw your face."

"Bullshit!" Ryan didn't step away as the taller man took another threatening step, the shoulders of his denim jacket beginning to darken with the rain. "I was just proving to you that _you're_ the weak one here. Not me."

"Ryan."

"At least I can control my hormones," continued the shorter man, watching the irritation grow on Shane's face as he spoke. "You're always flirting, and making little suggestive comments-"

"Shut up."

"-but when it comes down to it you don't do shit. You're all bark, Shane. You-"

He let his words trail off as Shane suddenly yanked his cap off his head, flinging it to the ground. Ryan barely had time to object before the taller man grabbed him by his jacket, and he was suddenly up against the nearest tree, the bark rough against his back, but not half as rough as Shane's lips on his. Shane held him by the jaw, his other hand gripping Ryan's arm, the kiss not quite desperate, but _demanding_. He could taste the rain as it dripped from their lips, noticeably cold against the heat of their mouths. Shane pushed the shorter man's hands away as he tried to touch him, feeling the breathy curse ghost against his lips.

Ryan gritted his teeth as the taller man's mouth pressed into his neck, just below his jaw, feeling the slick movements, the heavy, almost labored breaths hot against his skin. He instinctively went to try and touch the taller man, feeling both insulted and into it as Shane shoved his hands away again. A clear message. _I can touch you, but you can't touch me._

"Ryan? Shane?" It was Steven, sounding unsettlingly close. "Hello?"

Shane pulled the shorter man's head aside, moving back up his neck, working at the sweet spot just below his jaw, his head angled to be able to get in properly. Ryan's skin was hot, wet with the rain, and Shane suddenly understood why people seemed to like doing this stuff in this weather. He pushed a long, hard kiss into Ryan's neck, lingering, his teeth grazing his skin, feeling Ryan's mouth dropping open with a shuddering gasp. Ah, yes. There it was. The desperate attempt at suppressing a moan, Ryan's hands grabbing the end of his shirt, pulling at the fabric.

"Ryan? That you?"

The taller man ignored the half-assed shoves, using his own weight to keep the shorter man against the tree, still running his tongue along his skin, back and forth, forceful, then lighter for a second, then harsh again, pushing into the place he remembered from before, working it over. Ryan's breaths were getting increasingly louder, a high-pitched pain on each exhale, until he suddenly let out a harsh, excrutiated moan, gripping fistfuls of Shane's jacket as he did so.

"Ryan?!"

Shane suddenly stepped aside, letting his coworker stumble forwards against the wet boulder beside them. "We're over here, Steven!"

"Where? Oh yeah, I see you."

Ryan stayed leaning, head ducked, still breathing deeply, erratically, a hand clamped on his neck. He couldn't turn around, even as he heard Steven join them, crunching through the damp leaves.

"Shit, is he alright?"

Shane's voice was nonchalant, lilting, his own breathlessness hidden. "I don't know. Are you alright, Ry?"

“Mmhmm.” He nodded, giving Steven a quick smile. “You know me! Just got spooked. By a, uh, a squirrel."

"Ha. Classic Ryan." Steven grinned at him, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You guys are soaked. Sara drove up, she was freaking out since you were taking so long."

Shane raised his eyebrows in feigned interest. "Oh, cool. We'll be there in a tick, yeah?"

He waited until Steven had wandered off to alert the rest of the team to his discovery, before moving up behind the shorter man. Ryan was still clearly trying to steady himself, eyes closed, labored breaths audible. 

“Oh, Ryan. That was _close_.”

The shorter man turned his head ever so slightly, giving him a sidelong look. He couldn’t speak. Not yet. Not while he was still-

"Turned on, hm?" Shane grinned at this, arching an eyebrow. "Well, I guess that makes one of us. I, as you can now see, am pretty okay. You, on the other hand, need help standing up. So I think that makes the weak one here quite obvious, yeah?"

Ryan didn't reply, hearing the taller man amble off towards the sound of car wheels on dirt. _Holy fuck_. He straightened up, forcing himself to focus, to follow his coworker towards the rest of them. He didn't want to accept how much he would do literally anything to get Shane to do that again. It had been just like that damn scene from _The_   _Notebook_ , except less romantic, and way more gay. But no, he had to stay sharp. Focused. But most of all, he had to _win_.


	8. Mutual, Gratuitous, and Absolute

"They sort of dress like Riggs and Murtaugh. Ryan's all kinda sporty, while Shane wears button-ups like everyday."

"I always thought they were more Steve and Danno from _Hawaii 5-O._ You know, with all the homoerotic undertones."

Kelsey snorted. "What undertones?"

"Even the heights are pretty much bang on."

"You know, we can hear you," said Ryan, turning his head to glower at them. 

"Yeah, and you're all kind of off-track," said Shane, leaning back in his chair, his Hawaiian shirt still damp from the rain, hanging open to show that the white t-shirt underneath was as well. "I think we're more Gina and Rosa from _Brooklyn 99_. I'm undeniably witty and attractive in my own trademark way, while Ryan tries to act all tough but at the end of the day he is, essentially, a sweetheart."

"What about Maverick and Iceman in _Top Gun,"_ suggested Andrew _._  "That was pretty gay too."

"If we're anything, it's Indiana Jones and Ren Belloq," said Ryan firmly. "Because you're sneaky, and nefarious, and you always take credit for _my_ work! While I'm out there, kicking ass, and looking good in hats."

Shane stared at him for a moment in silence before placing his mug down on the table. He leaned back in his seat, still staring at him, like a parent would look at their child who just screamed at them for the first time.

"Ryan." A pause. "I'm hurt."

"Good!"

"But, I think we're more Ron Burgundy and Veronica Corningstone." He lowered his voice, feeling the smirk growing on his face despite his attempts to hide it. "A little bit of rivalry, a little bit of jealousy, but at the end of the day, hot..." He took a dramatic pause, sighing quietly. "... _passionate_ sex. In which one of us may or may not speak a foreign language due to the intense levels of pleasure experienced."

Ryan didn't bother replying, simply rolling his eyes with a weary sigh, getting to his feet.

"Hate to see you leave, Ryan," said Shane as he passed by, turning in his chair to follow him with his eyes. "But love to watch you go."

Ryan gave the rest of the grinning team a disappointed look as he left the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. Really, he just had to leave. He used to be able to just ignore all the little flirty comments, all the innuendos, but now he couldn't help but realize that what Shane was saying was true; it probably _would_ be amazing. The few times they'd hooked up, he could always just convince himself the next day that it only felt so good because he'd been drunk, but now... Well, he'd been stone-cold sober, and it had still been just so- so _good_. Some proper steamy stuff. And even in the car on the drive back down to the station, sitting next to each other had almost been unbearable, especially since Sara had insisted they take off their damp coats so that her seats wouldn't get soaked. So they'd struggled to pull off their coats without touching each other too much, avoiding eye contact, as Banjo stared at them from the passenger seat. The two men stared back. It was as if the dog knew about what had just happened. Which was stupid, because he's just a dog. Or can dogs smell hormones? 

Ryan came to a halt in the corridor, realizing he'd just passed by his office he'd been so preoccupied with his thoughts. He closed his door behind him, throwing half his coffee over himself as Quinta was revealed from behind it.

"Jesus Christ!" He looked down at his now-stained t-shirt, hands raised. At least the coffee hadn't been too hot. Mainly because he'd been too busy listening to Shane talking shit for half an hour straight. "What the- What are you doing, Q? Why are you hiding in my office?!"

"I'm not hiding," she replied, arms folded as she watched him. "I'm waiting. For you. Also, sorry about the coffee. My bad."

Okay, now he was anxious. "What? Why?"

"You're acting different, Ryan." She was watching him closely, searchingly. "I gave Madej a little talk about your whole weird thing that you guys have, but maybe I gave the talk to the wrong guy."

Ryan paused. "Helen told you."

"Nah, this morning I overheard Sara and Shane talking about your little visit to his office last night," she said dryly. "And this investigation is moving more slowly than usually, because of your dumb... whatever it is. If you don't start acting appropriately, I'll put Helen and Sara in charge, okay?"

Ryan nodded, looking just a tiny bit ashamed as she opened the door. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry."

She put a hand out for the coffee cup, smiling at him. "Look, I'll get you a fresh coffee. I know it's not all you."

He pressed his lips together in an embarrassed smile. "Thanks, Quinta. And sorry. I'll- Oh hey, Ricky."

The dog wandered into the office, sitting in front of him, snout up for a pet. He did so, crouching down in front of him. Brent's lanyard still hung around the dog's neck, nice and shiny. Ryan sat down properly, allowing the dog to drape itself across his legs, eyes closed for a nice, pensive scratch.

"So maybe we didn't get that far," muttered Ryan to himself, finally noticing they'd found fuck all in the small area of the mountain they'd searched. "But people obviously hunt up there, right? I learnt that the hard way. Maybe we could talk to some local hunters, see if anyone saw the Jamisons. Even though they probably suck. Hunting's bad. Maybe there's a hunting club? What do you think?"

Ricky wagged his tail in response to the question, opening his big brown eyes to look up at him. Ryan smiled back down at him; he was cute. He was a cute dog. Quinta had agreed to let the station keep him, due to the fact he upped the general morale around the place. What a good boy.

"But you know that, don't you?" Ryan's smile widened as the tail wagging intensified at his words. "You know you're the best dog, don't you? Yes you do. You-"

Shane cleared his throat, alerting his coworker to the fact that he'd been standing in the doorway for an undetermined amount of time, a mug in either hand.  

Ryan took a second to slow his heart, sighing heavily. "Can everyone just not scare the shit out of me every five minutes?"

The taller man was looking at him with an odd look on his face, as if he was in the middle of a daydream, before suddenly blinking himself awake. "Yeah, uh, here. Coffee. For you. Not from me. From Quinta. She had to make a call or something. I wouldn't make you coffee."

"Yeah. I know." Ryan gestured at the dog still lying across his lap. "Well, if you'd be kind enough to deliver it down to me, that would be nice."

And surprisingly, Shane did. Still with that weird look on his face, a slight frown, like he was confused by something, eyes fixed on the shorter man's face. Ryan took the proffered mug, squinting into it; nothing that looked out of the ordinary.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Shane?" He frowned as his coworker immediately straightened back up at his words, eyes focusing. "Why are you acting so weird?"

"I'm not acting weird," shot back Shane, turning away. "You're acting weird. Idiot. Shut up."

Ryan was still frowning as the man stormed out, closing the door over behind him with a bit more force than necessary, making Ricky sit upright, ears pricked.

"I know, right?" muttered Ryan, taking a suspicious sip of coffee. "What a weirdo."

* * *

_Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up shut up_. Shane continued trying to get his unwelcome emotions in check, his head attempting to dig a hole to bury his heart in as he strode off down the corridor, back towards his own office. _It wasn't cute. It wasn't. Ryan's stupid._ But his smile is nice. _Yeah but he's annoying_. But he's good-looking. _...Yes, he is_. So it's okay to have a crush on him. _No! No it's not!_ Why not? _Because I don't like him!_

He sat down at his desk, sighing heavily, wearily. He seemed to have gotten that random burst of emotion back in check, thank God. Because really, anyone looks cute when petting an animal, right? It's just the way it is. It wasn't Ryan specifically. So there. 

He answered the ringing phone on his desk, mug halfway to his mouth. "Yyyello?"

"...Is this Shane Madej?"

He swallowed his gulp of coffee, a frown on his face. "Who is this?"

"My name is Niki Shenold." Her voice was low, hushed. "I- I was a friend. Of Sherilyn's."

Shane kept the phone against his ear with his shoulder, rifling through his desk for the list of witness testimonies he was sure were somewhere. "Bare with me a moment, I-"

"I can't." 

The urgency of her voice made him pause, listening more intently. "Are you- Are you alright?"

"I only have five minutes." Her voice was still a whisper. It sounded as if she was in some small space. "The cult, we- they don't have a name. But they have a hit list, Sherilyn was on it, Sherilyn and Bobby. I saw it. I'd go home, I'd look up the names I remembered, they're all missing. Just vanished. You're Missing Persons, yes?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am." He grabbed a pen, feeling his heart beginning to race. "Can you give me some of those names?"

"There was- Uh, Samantha. Jerry. Lisa. Brendan and Elaine." A sudden rustle, her voice trailing off. "I- I'll have pepperoni on that. Yeah."

Shane blinked, slowly getting to his feet, hearing another woman's voice in the background. "Niki? Niki, are you okay."

"Yes, that sounds great. I'll collect."

"Niki, just say yes or no. Just-" He cursed as the line went dead, lowering the phone, glaring at it. "Shit. Sara? Sara!" 

She appeared almost instantly, looking concerned at the alarm she could hear in his voice. "What? You okay?"

"I need you to look through past cases," he said, hurrying over to the door, handing her the list of names. "Look for these people."

"How far back?"

"Say- Say twenty years, for now."

"Any second names?" She was already hurrying off down the corridor, curls bouncing. "Where'd you get these?"

"I'll tell you in a minute. Get everyone in the incident room, would you?" He headed off in the opposite direction, his Hawaiian shirt flapping around him he was walking so fast. "Ryan? Ryan!"

Ryan had risen from his spot on the floor, standing at his desk, phone in hand. He glanced up at Shane's yelling, an insulted frown on his face as the taller man finally appeared in his doorway, hair windswept from the rush to get to his office.

"What the hell, Ryan?" Shane scowled at him. "I've been calling you for like, two minutes straight."

"I'm not a dog, Shane!" He sat down pointedly, putting the phone to his ear, sparing his coworker a frown as he started tapping in a number. "Go away. I'm busy."

"This is important, man." Shane crossed the room to his desk, putting his finger down on the phone hook to hang it up. "Actually important."

Ryan closed his eyes to stop them from rolling, dropping his hand with the phone down onto the desk. "I swear to God, if you're messing around right now-"

"C'mon, Ryan!" He was already halfway out of the room, waving a hand over his shoulder. "Quick!"

For once, he was actually prioritizing. The woman on the phone had sounded paranoid, afraid. If he could help her somehow, he would. But first they needed to sort through the missing persons she'd told him about, and try and find any similarities in their disappearances, any common connections. Anything.

* * *

 

It took about fifteen minutes to find everyone and gather them together. They were worse than a bunch of schoolkids. And what's worse was that they were all wearing their own casual clothes, so seemed to be feeling less... professional. Which was a bit inconvenient. 

"Look, I know we all look like some ridiculous 80s cop movie ensemble," said Shane, looking them all over from the top of the table. "But we can learn from it. We probably should've picked some common look, if we were going to pose as lost tourist friends."

"I'm literally the only one who dressed appropriately," said Andrew dryly. "I wore a brimmed hat. I brought a waterproof jacket. I wore hiking boots. Shane, you look like you walked off the set of _Scarface_. And you look like you should be in the North Pole, in a tent around a fire. I mean, fluffy socks? Really?"

Sara frowned at him, pulling her woolly jumper closer. "It was in case it got cold. Leave me alone."

"Andrew, you look like a younger version of Doctor Alan Grant." Steven gestured down at himself. "I just stayed nice and simple. Jumper. Sneakers. Sunglasses."

"Yeah, not exactly hiking chic, Steven," said Ryan with a grin.

Steven raised an eyebrow at him. "Well you look like you could've run through the woods shouting 'Wildcats, everywhere, wave your hands up in the air! That's the way we do it let's get-'"

"And Helen could be Sharpay," quipped Sara, pointing a thumb at the woman beside her, hearing Steven smoothly transfer to belting out 'Fabulous' in the background. "I mean, you look like you should be lost in New York City."

She shrugged, her silk scarf floating with the movement. "It's not my fault I have impeccable style."

"If we're all done roasting each other," said Shane into the rising voices, raising a hand. "I actually have something to say. About the case."

"Alright, Thomas Magnum. Hit us." Andrew accepted the offered high-five from Ryan, grinning back at the flat look Shane gave him. 

Shane quickly informed them of the phone call; the urgency, the weird cover-up when someone interrupted, and the hint as to what happened to the Jamisons. By the end, they actually were all listening intently, eyes wide.

He turned to Sara, raising his eyebrows hopefully. "Any look with the past cases?" 

"Yep." She moved to the projector at the front of the room, hooking up her laptop. "Yeah. Here we are. All of the names are here - Samantha Cooper, Jerry Lombard, Lisa Smyth, Brendan and Elaine Reiner - and they've all gone missing in the past fifteen years. We just have to check if they have any relation to cult activities around the place."

"And why they might've been taken." Ryan had his arms folded on the table, around his half-full mug of coffee, watching the screen closely. "Any common problems that could maybe tell us why the Jamisons were acting so weird."

Shane turned to Sara, who looked up attentively. "Dish out the cases to everyone, yeah? I'd like it all done ASAP, I think we all agree."

After a quick transaction of files and names and a few more comments on everyone's outfits, they filed out the door. Shane stuck an arm out to keep Ryan in, ignoring the insulted look on the shorter man's face as he shut the door after everyone else.

"What?" asked Ryan, hands on his hips. "You could've just asked me to stay. Not almost clotheslined me."

He smiled down at him, eyebrows raised. "Oh, y'know. Getting somewhere on a case just gets my blood pumping. I don't know if you're the same."

Ryan swiftly turned his head away. "Uh... No. It doesn't. So-"

"So Quinta _did_ talk to you," interrupted Shane, pointing a finger at him. "I knew she was acting strange when she asked me to bring you your coffee. As if she didn't want me to or something."

"You know what? Yeah, she did talk to me." Ryan stared defiantly up at him, not liking the amused look in his eyes. "And she also had a point. We're being stupid. Unprofessional."

"Oh?" He gestured at the table in the center of the room, still with that amusement in his smile. "Then let's get professional, Ryan. Together."

"Shane," he said quietly, a warning in his voice. "Stop."

"We should discuss what we're doing next, Ry." He moved towards the table, hearing the shorter man reluctantly follow, taking a seat. "Make a plan of action."

"Alright," said Ryan slowly, still sounding wary. "That's all."

"You seem to think there's some elephant in the room here, Bergara."

"Yeah. Because there is."

"Then let's get that out of the way first, yeah?" Shane smiled at the flat look on his coworker's face. “Maybe we could have some sort of contract, hm?”

Ryan shook his head wearily, resting his head in his hand. “God dammit, Shane. I thought you were actually gonna be serious."

"Well sorry you thought that."

"I said no, Shane. I'm not in the mood." He went to stand up. "I’m tired.”

“And I’m serious.” He moved to stand beside the shorter man, a hand on the table, propping him up, and keeping Ryan in his seat. “If Quinta wants us to keep it professional, then maybe we should.”

“I’m not signing some sort of sex contract, Madej.” He gave a sharp laugh, irritated. “You’re just annoying me.”

Shane’s voice was low, alluring, but the smile was audible. “I think you’re gonna want to sign it.”

“Oh yeah?” Ryan sat back in his chair, looking up at him, arms folded. “Try me.”

“Well, I haven’t quite worked out the finer details yet,” he continued casually, sitting up on the table, kicking his feet up on the chair either side of Ryan. “But I have the general gist figured out.”

Ryan kept his arms folded, still leaning back in his seat, feeling a tiny bit trapped with Shane’s long legs either side of him. “I bet you do.”

“The first rule,” he said, lazily picking up Ryan’s coffee and taking a long sip, eyes fixed on the shorter man’s. “would of course be no emotions. Just purely physical. Just good old-fashioned fucking.”

Ryan struggled to keep his gaze flat, the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Go on.”

“Doesn’t matter where.” He waved a hand as he talked, eyes looking up and to the side in thought. “Bathrooms, either of our offices, storage closet…” He dropped his gaze back to meet Ryan’s. “…empty incident rooms.”

Ryan took a long, quiet inhale, tilting his head back. “Right.”

“But of course, the activity itself would be of utmost importance.” He could see the shorter man taking a deep breath, their eyes still locked. “I myself am pretty fluid with the position, or the preferred style. We can make that up as we go.” His smile slipped away as he continued speaking, looking down at Ryan from under heavy-lidded eyes. “But it would need to be rough…”

A quiet exhale, only a bit shaky.

Shane leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, looking down his nose at Ryan. “…aggressive…”

Another inhale, long and deep, Ryan sitting more upright in the chair.

“…unrelenting…” Whoops, now he could feel himself getting a bit fired up. He kept his words heavy, weighted. “…and absolutely vigorous." He let the shorter man squirm for a moment, raising an eyebrow at him. "If you think you could handle it.”

Ryan’s mouth had dropped open slightly, still looking up at the taller man with dark, hungry eyes. “I could handle it.”

“Good. Because there’s one guarantee here, Ryan.”

“Yeah?”

Shane smiled, feeling his own heartbeat beginning to pick up. “Mutual, gratuitous, and absolute sexual satisfaction.”

For a moment, he thought Ryan was going to literally throw himself at him. He had one hand gripping the bottom of the chair, the other grasping the back, as if he was literally holding himself in place. Shane finally placed the mug down, readying himself for the victory he was sure was about to come.  _Quit stalling, Bergara. Give me the gold._ Ryan seemed to be quite literally frozen in place. It was either stay completely still, or take the taller man down right there and then. So he sat, pretty sure he was going to break off pieces of the chair in his hands he was gripping it so tightly.

"I think I could end this all right now, Ryan." He could see it, the fierce struggle in the man's eyes. "I'd say I could finish you with just a few words. Do you?"

The shorter man didn't reply, jaw clenched, eyes still fixed on Shane's.

"Maybe if I talked about what I want to do to you." He kept his voice low, blatantly provocative. "Where I want to touch you. How I want to touch you."

Ryan swallowed, each breath trembling.

"Maybe if I told you what I want you to do to me." Shane coolly observed the almost pained expression on his coworker's face, hiding his own, similar feelings. "What I'd let you do to me. Maybe if I ran through the actions, detail by detail. Every. Single. Little. Touch."

Ryan opened his mouth as if to talk, but whatever he was going to say got stuck in his throat, frozen, just like the rest of his body. But internally, he was positively _burning_. 

"Oh, Ryan." Shane got to his feet, placing a finger under his coworker's chin, tilting his head back to look up at him. "It's two-all now, I believe. And I'm still only getting warmed up."

He stepped around him, bringing Ryan's coffee with him, taking a leisurely sip; it was lukewarm, but damn, victory makes anything taste sweet. He paused at the door, turning to see Ryan slumped back in his seat, hands over his face, fingers running through his hair to link behind his head. Shane smiled to himself, swanning off down the corridor. _Nice one, Madej. You foxy son of a bitch._


	9. Do You Want To Stay?

Ryan stood by the slowly boiling kettle, arms folded, staring into space. They'd been trying to find the Jamisons for about two weeks now, and they were no closer to a definitive answer than they'd been at the start. There were so many leads, all pointing in different directions. There was the father, Bobby Dean. The restraining order Bobby Dale had taken out against him had contained some worrisome phrases, such as saying the Jamisons "feared for their lives" and that Bobby Dale himself was "in fear at all times". But after a little dig, Helen had come to the conclusion that the Jamisons themselves weren't even to be trusted; they were in the middle of suing the father over some petty business argument, they'd sued three people after a car crash, they were both not working due to disability claims on very dubious grounds. They seemed to have been quite the scammers.

Shane was still holding the drug lead as a possible means to an end, and maybe it was. A few townsfolk and some family friends had heard rumors that the family were involved in drug deals, and maybe that would explain the large amount of hard cash in the car. But why would they bring their dog and their six-year-old child to a drug deal? Connie, the mother, said they'd never let anything happen to Madyson. Unless something had happened to Bobby Dale and Sherilyn themselves. And the family had definitely not left the car willingly. But apart from that? Zilch.

Which left the cult. Unnamed, unseen, hidden away in the woods. And what sort of cult had a hit list, for God's sake? The phone call from the woman, Niki Shenold, made this lead the strongest by a good stretch. The Satanic bible, the ominous graffiti on the storage container, Bloody Mary telling him to watch the special on cults. He'd done this, and had finished it feeling like he'd just watched a horror movie. The Matamoros cartel, lead by a man referred to as the Witch Doctor. Human sacrifice, rituals, and drugs? He meandered over to the cupboard, opening it slowly, still preoccupied with his thoughts. Could Bloody Mary have been trying to drop a hint?

"Can't reach?"

Ryan jumped in surprise at the sound of the man's voice right beside him. "Jesus! I can reach it, Shane."

"Here, let me just get it for you."

"I can literally reach it." Ryan glared straight ahead as Shane nonchalantly reached over his shoulder to get the jar of coffee down, feeling the taller man's body press forwards against him. "Really. Just straight in with it, yeah?"

"I don't know what you mean." He placed the jar down on the kitchen counter, arms either side of the shorter man, leaning forwards against him. "I'm just helping out my coworker."

"It's nine in the evening, Madej. I'm just making this for Helen before I go."

"And we have designated times for this now, do we?"

"We-" Ryan took a deep breath as Shane's hand traveled up to settle just at the bottom of his neck, thumb and index finger resting along his collarbones. "Quinta might be around."

"She's busy at some press release." His voice was just beside Ryan's ear, breath hot. "And I'm not waiting around for you to make your move. I've been letting you one-up me so far, but I think I'm tired of that now."

"Oh?" Ryan let his head be tilted aside, still glaring straight ahead, feeling the taller man's stubble scratching his skin. "And why's that?"

"Because I think I gave you the wrong idea, Ryan." He smirked at the glower on the shorter man's face, feeling the pulse racing under his hand. "I'm not looking for us to keep one-upping each other here. I'm gonna run away with this."

Ryan was quiet for a moment, gaze lowered. "You know, I was thinking over your little proposal from yesterday."

"Were you, now?"

"Mm." He turned around, the taller man staying close, a hand on the counter either side of him. "Because I'll admit it. You got me going. You did."

"Yeah. I know."

“That must’ve made you feel pretty good.”

“Oh, I was happy.”

A pause. “Excited?”

Shane ever-so-slightly arched an eyebrow. “Mm.”

Ryan leaned back against the counter, arms resting either side, crossing over Shane's. “…Worked up?”

The taller man looked at him from under heavy lids, subconsciously biting on his bottom lip. “A little.”

Ryan let his head tilt back slightly, not taking his eyes from Shane’s. “Dare I say, weak?”

“Oh, I’ve never been stronger.”

“Oh yeah?” Ryan raised his eyebrows, looking at the ceiling in an almost distracted fashion. “So what you’re saying is that if I suggested my own additions to your proffered contract, maybe tweaked it a bit…” He let his eyes drift back to meet the taller man’s, letting his lips part slightly as he straightened up, pushing Shane a bit more upright as he did so. “…that wouldn’t affect you at all? Is that what you’re saying?”

Shane gave a subtle nod, taking a long, quiet breath.

“What about if I added a few different ways in which I’d want it to go down, hm?” Ryan let his voice stay nice and low, both in case any of their coworkers were nearby, but also because he could see it was working some magic with the taller man. “Let’s picture the scene, shall we?”

“Alright.”

“The break room, perhaps.” He saw Shane swallow, eyes locked on his as Ryan pushed his arms off the counter. The shorter man gently but firmly took hold of Shane’s hands, slipping them under his shirt to rest on his sides, just below his ribs. “Your hands here. My hands…” He hooked his fingers behind the waist of Shane’s trousers, pulling the taller man forwards against him. “…around here somewhere, maybe.”

Shane was looking down at him with an almost irritated look on his face, but he didn’t take his hands away. Instead, they tightened on Ryan’s waist, sliding down to his hips, pulling him more firmly against him. Ryan let himself smile as he realized just why the taller man seemed so peeved; it was because it was working. He had flipped it, he'd fucking flipped it. _Yes_.

“Then I let you do whatever you want,” said Ryan in a husky whisper, knowing he was well and truly on top here as one of Shane’s hands slid around to rest on his lower back, pressing their bodies flush together. “To me. With me. Anything you want.” He hid his satisfaction at the internal conflict clear on his coworker’s face, keeping his face serious. “I can handle it.”

Shane shook his head slightly. “I don’t think you could.”

“I think we should find out. I _want_ to find out.” He placed a hand on the back of Shane’s neck, pulling him down, pausing for a moment before whispering the words right against his parted mouth. “I want you.”

Just before the taller man’s lips could touch his, Ryan placed a finger against them, pushing Shane's head away with a leisurely flick. Shane cursed out loud, turning away with an angry flourish as Ryan stepped aside, out of his reach, a delighted smile on his face.  

“Well how about that, Madej?” Ryan continued sauntering backward towards the door, arms spread. “Three-two, pal, and the ball’s in my court now.”

"There's no court here, Ryan." He looked understandably infuriated, hands on his hips as he took a moment to cool off. "It's not that type of game."

"Well what is it then?"

"It's more like- like bowling." He pretended to hold a bowling ball up, eyes fixed intently on Ryan. "And you're the last pin, little guy. And I'm coming for ya."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

Ryan stood in the doorway, arms resting on either side of the frame. "Well then you better start bringing your A-game, Madej. Because I just played you like a damn fiddle."

Shane moved to stand just in front of him, hands gripping the door frame, their eyes locked. "You want to turn up the heat here, do you?"

"Oh yeah. All the way."

"You're getting a bit cocky, Bergara." He gave a dry smile. "Considering the fact I had you sounding like a cheap porn star only two days ago."

"You had to actually kiss me though, Shane," replied the shorter man with a shrug. "I haven't had to move past touch with you."

"I almost got you off with nothing but words last night," replied Shane quietly. "And if I can do that to you with nothing but my voice, just think about what I could do to you if I didn't have to hold back."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze. "Careful, Madej. You don't want to sound like you're selling yourself here, do you? Not like an office whore."

"I could get you off in ways you couldn't even imagine," continued the taller man, seeing Ryan's smile waver slightly. "God, you have no idea what I'd do to you. I'd fuck you until you couldn't even _think_ anymore."

 _Okay. Okay, fuck_. "You sure?"

"All you have to do is give in, Ryan." He wasn't sure who he was trying to turn on anymore; it was working him up just as much as it was the shorter man. "And I'll take you right now. On the table." He swallowed, his heart beginning to thump in his chest. "And I'd have you fucking screaming my name in minutes."

Ryan could barely breathe. He couldn't take his eyes from the taller man's, he couldn't move, he couldn't think about anything other than what Shane was saying. And Shane seemed just as fired up, breathing heavily, hands gripping the door frame so tightly it was like he was going to rip it off. And this was bad. It was bad that they were both just as turned on as the other, because now they were literally stuck in a stand-off that neither could bring themselves to walk away from.

"I swear to God, Shane." Ryan's voice was quiet, ever so slightly shaky, gaze drifting down to the taller man's mouth. "Do it. I want you to do it now."

Still neither moved. Shane realized he was gritting his teeth so hard it was almost painful. He'd do it. He would do it in a heartbeat, if it didn't mean he'd lose. And if there was one thing he was certain would feel better than the opportunity being dangled in front of him right now, it was winning. It was having Ryan make the first move. But fuck, it was _hard_. It was so damn hard. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so torn in his whole life. He was pretty certain he never had.

Ryan was watching him so intensely it was almost frightening, his voice low, slightly strained. "C'mon, big guy." _Before I do_.

Shane gave a small shake of his head, not looking away. "No. No, I'm fine."

"You're looking a bit _weak_ , really."

"Oh?"

"Mm."

"Unfortunate."

"Isn't it."

The taller man closed his eyes, straightening up with a long inhale. "I wouldn't know. Because I'm fine."

Ryan stared at him, internally panicking. This had to end. It had to end soon. He wouldn't be able to last much longer, he knew he wouldn't. Before Shane could open his eyes, the shorter man stuck out a hand, slipping his fingers through the gaps between the buttons of the taller man's shirt, making direct contact with his skin. He felt his coworker tense up at the touch, his face frozen, mouth opening to whisper one word.

"Don't."

Ryan let himself have the smallest of smiles, still a bit too on edge to think he'd won quite yet. "I said I want you to-"

"Yo, where the hell's my coffee?" 

Ryan immediately pushed Shane aside, moving over to where Helen stood watching them with narrowed eyes. "Oh, whoops. I forgot about it."

"Yeah." She looked from one to the other, still openly suspicious. "It appears so."

Shane cleared his throat, a hand on his stomach where Ryan had touched him. "He's a bit dense, Helen. In case you haven't noticed."

"Oh ha ha, Shane." Ryan kept his back to him, making the mug of coffee, movements a bit more aggressive than necessary. "You're so fucking funny."

"Someone's all worked up," said Shane from the doorway, his heart only beginning to calm down. "Wonder what that's about?"

"Jesus, Ryan!" Helen took the mug from the counter as Ryan suddenly slammed his hand down, the spoon in his fist whacking off the surface. "I'd like to not be drinking shards of mug, thanks."

"I'm going home." He turned to give Shane a fierce glare, a nice long one, before heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Helen."

Shane watched him leave, finally relaxing, blowing air out through his mouth. "Damn."

Helen took a sip of her coffee, raising an eyebrow at him. "Wanna tell me what you guys were doing?"

"Not really." He gave her a smile, turning away into the corridor. "See ya."

He closed his office door behind him, leaving the lights off. He needed to think for a moment. Needed to think about how dangerously close he'd come to caving. Really, he wasn't too sure why he was so against losing this whole thing. There wouldn't be any dire consequences. In fact, there'd only be one sweet, sweet reward. Yet still, the thought of breaking first had him feeling angry, disgusted. He'd made the first move twice, it was Ryan's turn now. He'd make sure it was.

Shane moved to the window, seeing the headlights from Ryan's car sweeping out onto the quiet road, disappearing off down towards town. And almost instantly, a second pair of headlights flashed on, visible through the bushes that lined the road. Shane watched in silence as it took off after Ryan, looking like it was filled with people. It was probably some family. Some group of friends. Just some normal people. Not anything crazy. Or creepy. Or cult-y.

He swiped his keys off his desk as he hurried towards the door, shrugging his coat on.

* * *

Ryan paused halfway across the car lot, turning to look behind him again. It was quiet. Eerily quiet. During the day, the gathering of trees that were leftover from before the forest was cut down were pretty. A nice lump of nature to look out on from his apartment. But at night, it was a different story. Rustling leaves, branches that curled like claws, and so many shadows he was pretty sure if he reached in, his hand would come back black. Like it had been dipped in ink. _For God's sake, Ryan. You're just being paranoid_.

He continued on, swallowing. Why was it that when you listen hard enough, everything is suspicious? Everything is a warning? A black car passed by again, slowly, leisurely. He watched it, coming to yet another halt. That was the fifth time that car had passed. His common sense poked its head out, knocking on his skull to get his attention. _You're just freaking yourself out_. No, that's not normal. _They're probably just lost_. And if they're not? ... _Then they're murderers, I guess_. Oh God. _Oh God, you're going to die_. Shit, they're coming back already. What do I do? _Scream, I suppose_.

The car pulled into the lot, sloppily parking across two spaces. Silver. Silver, not black. And for once, Ryan's pulse slowed at the sight of his coworker stepping out of the car, glancing down the road behind him. 

"What the hell are you doing here, Shane?" He really wished he didn't sound quite so relieved. "Our homes are off-limits. That's just a rule. I _will_ mace you."

Shane finally turned back to look at him, an odd frown on his face. "Did you... Was there a..." He paused, car door still open beside him. "Hi. Uh, sorry. I don't know why I'm here."

Ryan looked at him in silence for a moment. "Was there a what?"

"Hm?"

"You were going to ask me something."

Shane stood where he was. "Uh... No, it's nothing. I- Yeah. Goodnight."

"Wait, what?!" He didn't want him to go, not quite yet. "Are you drunk or something?"

"No! No." He closed his door, throwing another look back over his shoulder at the road. "I was just passing by. Thought I'd say hey...?"

"Well." Ryan's eyes widened as the black car cruised back into view, speeding up as the lights shone on Shane, who looked just as unnerved as he did. The car disappeared down the road, at a normal speed this time. "Do you- Do you wanna come inside? You want a coffee or something?"

"Yeah. Yeah, definitely. Yes."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

"Ricky's with me tonight."

"Nice."

It was strange. It was very, very strange. Letting Shane Madej into his apartment. Willingly. Voluntarily. Ryan turned on the lights, gesturing down the hall towards the sitting room visible at the end. Ricky's head appeared over the arm of the couch, his eyes visibly brightening at the sight of them. Shane nodded in silence, still looking unsettled. Frightened, even. 

"I'll make coffee," said Ryan into the silence, shrugging off his coat as he headed down the hall, pulling off his tie. "If you wanna just... sit. I guess."

And so Shane did sit, allowing Banjo to use him as a makeshift pillow. He slipped his coat off. Loosened his shirt collar and tie. Pushed up his sleeves. Nope, he still felt uncomfortable. Whether from the weird car, or from being in his... in his what's apartment? His rival's? His on-again off-again friend's? He'd never really thought about it before. What they were. Almost fuck-buddies who don't particularly like each other? Is that a thing?

Shane got to his feet, wandering over to the shelves. A hell of a lot of horror movies, the majority of which he'd seen himself. No wonder the guy got freaked out so easily. 

"Nosy."

He straightened up at the sound of Ryan's disapproving voice, turning to take the offered mug. "I was just having a snoop. And thanks."

"Snoop away." Ryan sat where he'd just been sitting, Banjo seeming equally happy at this new headrest. "You wanna tell me the real reason you decided to pay me a spontaneous visit?"

Shane paused, half-turning to look at him. "I just couldn't bear to be parted from you."

"My home is off-limits to that fuckery, Shane. I'm serious." Ryan continued giving the dog a relaxing pet, Ricky's eyes slowly closing. "And I do have mace. Somewhere."

"We all do. We're cops." He stopped moving along the shelves, looking into his mug in silence. "But yeah. I thought I- Oh, it's whatever. It's stupid. I should probably just go."

"No no, no." Ryan smiled hesitantly at the raised eyebrow from the taller man. "Uh, just, stay. For a little bit. At least until you tell me why you're here."

"Why don't you tell me why you want me to stay so much?" replied Shane with a small smile, leaning back against the shelves. "I'm flattered."

"You tell me why you're here. I asked you first."

It was a bit of a stalemate. Both thought the other was there for some sexual reason, which was understandable. But because of this assumption, neither wanted to admit the real reasons the other was there. Shane would rather die than admit he'd come to make sure Ryan was safe. And Ryan would rather be eaten by a bear than confess that the reason he wanted Shane to stay was for safety. Well, maybe not safety. But comfort.

"I came to see Banjo," said Shane quickly. "I thought he was due to me tonight."

"Uh, no he's not. I get him Wednesday to Friday. Today's Thursday." Ryan pointed at him. "And you don't get Ricky for another week, dude. So why are you here?"

"Because I thought I saw-" He took a deep breath, seeing the almost eager look in his coworker's eyes. "I thought I saw a car. A suspicious car. I don't know."

Ryan was quiet for a long moment. "Me too."

"Huh?"

"A black car." Ryan put his mug down on the table, all attention. "It passed by six times before you came."

"It followed you all the way from the station." Shane moved to sit on the arm of the couch, looking down at him in all earnest. "Did you get a good look at them? Were they local? Familiar?"

"I didn't see their faces at all." Ryan closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "I'm being followed. I'm being fucking followed now. What were they gonna do to me?"

"Well, it's probably all fine now," said Shane with a crooked smile. "Maybe I scared them away."

"Ha. Yeah right." Ryan rolled his eyes, sitting back, wondering how to ask the next question without it sounding... weird. "Do you... Can you, um, do you want to stay? Tonight?"

Shane paused, mid-sip. "Mm?"

"Not sexual. Nothing, uh, nothing like that." He shrugged, hoping his red face didn't ruin his attempted nonchalance. "Just, it's late, maybe you don't wanna drive home, and-"

"Ryan. It's fine. I'll stay."

He looked up at the surprising softness in the man's voice. "Really? You're not messing with me, are you?"

"No," he replied with a simple shrug. "I mean, I'd be scared too. You just got followed. It's fine."

Ryan swallowed, dropping his gaze back down to Ricky's sleeping face. "That's... Thanks. Thank you."

Shane was quiet, taking a sip of coffee. "You have more than one bed?"

"Nope." He shot a dry look at his coworker's grinning face. "But I have a perfectly good couch you can share with the dog. So you won't get lonely."

Shane sighed wistfully. "Oh well. I suppose a bed isn't exactly necessary, when you're as sexually deviant as I am."

Ryan felt the heat rush to his face as he suddenly remembered the conversation in the kitchen they'd literally only had an hour ago. "I- I'm gonna go to bed now. Right now. Bathroom's down the hall to your left."

To his surprise, Shane avoided his eyes as he left, also looking a bit pink. "Cool. Okay."

A few minutes passed. He located the sitting room lights, turning them off. Sleeping on Ryan Bergara's couch. In Ryan Bergara's apartment. It felt surreal. It felt-

"Blanket."

Shane turned to look at the doorway, where the shorter man hovered. "Oh yeah. Thanks."

He went to take it, the transaction going just a tad slower than normal. Their eyes stayed fixed on each other, despite the lack of light. In fact, the only light was from Ryan's bedroom. Just down the hall.

The shorter man's voice was quiet. "Goodnight, Madej."

"Goodnight, Bergara."

A few long seconds passed. Then Ryan turned away, disappearing into his room, shutting the door firmly behind him. And Shane moved to the couch, nudging at the stretched-out Banjo.

"C'mon, man."


	10. "Oh, it's Death."

Ryan hovered in the doorway, feeling uncomfortable in his own home. His coworker sat on his couch, shirt rumpled, hair ruffled, head in his hands as if he was hungover. He wanted to tell him to go, really. Get lost. Go away. But he was raised right, and he wasn't about to spurn the guy's actually pretty kind gesture. So this was unfamiliar territory, and he wasn't exactly sure how to approach it. In broad daylight, it was a bit more real. The night before... Well, things didn't always need reasoning at night, he guessed. Because he was beginning to wonder why he'd even let Shane stay the night. Yeah, the car following him had been frightening, but he wasn't exactly alone in his apartment complex. He had neighbors, the building had a code to get in and out. So why had he wanted Shane to stay?

Shane finally raised his head at the sound of crunching cereal, turning to look at Ryan standing in the doorway. "...Morning."

Ryan took another spoonful of his breakfast, unsure of how to continue. "Hi."

"You're kind of weirding me out right now, man."

"Oh. The cereal?"

"The staring." He got to his feet, stretching stiffly, unaware of Ryan's eyes quickly flitting to the bared skin at the bottom of his untucked shirt. "God, I feel like a ninety-year-old. After a weekend in Vegas."

"Why?" Ryan continued munching as the taller man turned to give him a flat look. "Didn't sleep?"

"Look at your couch. Then look at me." 

"Ah."

"Yeah." He spread his arms. "I was just a tiny bit crammed. Just a tiny bit. Even the dog gave up."

"Well." Ryan shrugged, hearing the 'click click click' of paws coming out of his bedroom behind him. "Maybe you shouldn't have grown so tall."

"Droll." Shane arched an eyebrow, rubbing a pensive hand over his mouth. "I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Yeah. I just usually wear lenses."

"Me too."

"Really?"

Shane nodded, pressing his lips together. "Yup."

Ryan distractedly scratched the stubble itching along his jaw, looking away. "I guess maybe we do have something in common. Ha ha."

For a moment, there was silence. This conversation was strangely... civil. No biting remarks, no attempts at provoking the other to anger. Just talking. Like two normal people. Shane bit his lip, standing with his hands on his hips, unable to think of how to proceed without making it all go rapidly downhill. Any other day, he wouldn't hesitate to let all the snide comments burst forth, but Ryan had let him stay in his home. And although Shane enjoyed getting the other man riled up, he wasn't  _rude_.

He took a deep breath. "...I'm gonna go." 

"That's fair."

Shane sidled past him, avoiding his eyes. "I'll probably see you in like, an hour."

"Yeah. Probably."

Ryan finally allowed himself entry to his own sitting room once the guy had left. He whipped the blanket off the couch before Ricky could land on it, pausing. Oh no. The blanket smelled of him. Of Shane.

Dumping his half-full cereal bowl on the table in the kitchen, he hurriedly shoved the blanket into the washing machine, sighing heavily as it started spinning. He was intending on acting as if the night hadn't even happened, and he couldn't do that if there was a piece of hard evidence remaining. He had been going to say that to Madej himself; that it was stupid, an in-the-moment decision that was unnecessary, let's pretend that they didn't make it absolutely clear they cared about each other a bit more than they let on? Ryan swallowed, sitting at the table. He didn't care about Shane. He didn't. He would've asked whoever might've turned up to stay.

But it had been Shane that had turned up. It had been Shane that had been concerned for his safety. The thought made him feel almost feverish. Hot and cold at the same time. Fuck it, he should've just banged him. Kept their relationship strictly sexual. And he'd thought about it during the night. Multiple times. Even when the door had crept open, he'd sat up, feeling just that tiny bit disappointed when he realized it was just the dog. 

He finished his breakfast, robotically, so focused on his thoughts he wasn't even tasting it. Why hadn't he just gone into Shane instead of waiting for the guy to come into him? He could've gone out there, and he definitely could've broke him within minutes. Shane was a resilient son of a bitch so far, but with the situation at hand, he would've caved. No doubt. Ryan sat back in his chair, feeling Ricky sniffing at his leg in the hopes of food. Ryan could've finished the whole competition last night, he was beginning to realize. So why hadn't he? Only a few days ago Ryan had been sitting astride the guy, pushing up on him, watching him get increasingly flustered, all with a sense of smug satisfaction. But now? 

Damn it. He should've just fucked him.

* * *

"Since when are you into tarot cards?"

Shane jumped at the sound of Sara's voice, the card slipping from his hands. "I'm not! I'm not. I just... found it."

"You found it?" She picked it up off his desk, pulling a mock-frightened face. "Oh no! It's the Devil! That's like, one of the worst ones, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't know. Is it?"

It was. He knew it was. He'd gone back to his own apartment to get changed before heading to work, and it had been in his hallway. Slipped under his door. A larger-than-average card, with a grotesque-looking beast on it, an inverted pentagram above its head. He'd never truly appreciated the term 'shivers down your spine' until that moment. So he'd immediately googled its meaning; the darker side of occultism, and weirdly enough, sexuality. It had started creeping him out, so he'd shoved it in his pocket, and only took it back out when he'd reached his office. 

"Yeah. I'd say so. I mean, it's the Devil, right?" She handed it back to him. "Where'd you get it?"

He paused. "I can't remember. Probably some joke card thing or something. I don't know." Another pause. "Is Ryan in yet?"

Sara raised an eyebrow. "I think I saw him, yeah. Why?"

"I, uh, I have to talk to him." He was already halfway towards the door, card in hand. "Just for a minute."

God, he was tired. He'd barely slept a wink in Ryan's, and when he had, it had been fitful. The same dream kept coming up again and again; a dark muddy road with trees reaching in from either side, and down the road came a knight in black armor. He rode a white horse, and held a black flag, a black flag with a snow white flower. He came right up to him, the horse steaming, the man's armor shining with the rain. And when his helmet fell open, there was nothing but a fleshless skull, his empty black sockets staring down into him. Shane had jumped awake with a shuddering gasp, alarming Banjo, the dog giving an unimpressed grumble as it padded off towards Ryan's room. And Shane had wanted to follow. He'd been frightened. He'd never admit it, never, but the dream had terrified him. He just couldn't pinpoint why. He also couldn't pinpoint why he'd wanted to go into Ryan afterwards. It was _Ryan_ , for God's sake. Not exactly his everyday source of comfort.

"Hey, Ry." He knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open. "You busy?"

Ryan gave him a suspicious look over his computer screen, his head resting on his fist. He had such a pudgy face. Squishy. "...Yes."

"We need to talk." He closed the door over behind him, noticing how his coworker sat more upright, apprehensive. "Why are you- Oh, right. No, I'm not here to do... that."

Ryan visibly relaxed, but he still looked apprehensive. "Right. What do we need to talk about?" 

"This." He placed the card down, watching the relief flash across Ryan's face. Why was he relieved? "It was in my apartment. Like someone put it under my door."

Ryan got to his feet, picking it up as he squinted at it. "That's one of those tarot cards."

"No shit, Ryan." He ignored the flat glare thrown at him. "The important thing is that someone found my address, came to my home, and put this underneath my door."

"A message."

"Once again, no shit."

Ryan shoved the card at him with an irritated sigh. "Why'd the hell you come in to show me, Shane? If you're just gonna act like a damn know-it-all. Get lost."

"I came in to tell you," replied Shane sternly, taking the card. "because you were literally followed by a car of strangers last night. Remember that?"

The shorter man stared at him for a long moment, wondering how to continue the conversation without having to bring up their spontaneous sleepover. "Yes."

Shane stared back. "That's all you have to say? Yes?!"

"I don't know what you're looking for here, Shane!" 

"We're both being followed, you idiot!" 

"Well... Yeah, I guess we are. But that's nothing crazy new here! We're cops!" Ryan straightened up, exhaling sharply. "They're just trying to spook us. Whoever 'they' is."

"Then maybe we should get on that, yeah?"

Helen pushed open the door, hesitating as she saw the two men. "Oh, great. You're not banging. Uh, Ryan, she's here. I brought her to room three, so-"

"Yep, cool," he replied quickly, before she could finish. "I'll be right down."

Shane frowned at the flustered look on the other man's face. "You okay?"

Ryan hurriedly turned off his computer, making sure he'd saved everything first. "What? Yep. I'm fine."

"You aren't." He didn't like the sudden uneasiness he felt. "Who's 'she'?"

"No one." He cleared his throat, avoiding his eyes. "Just the daughter of Brendan and Elaine Reiner. Two of the people who went missing."

"...Cool." He didn't leave quite yet. "What's she like?"

Ryan blinked. "She's- She's nice. Just, y'know, normal. A normal girl. Woman."

Shane nodded slowly, trying to act as disinterested as he could. "What age is she?"

"Oh, like, our age." Ryan's face was reddening, which could only mean one thing. And that one thing was making Shane feel just a tiny bit... tense.

"Is she pretty?"

Ryan averted his eyes, hands on his hips. "She's, uh, yeah. Yeah, she's pretty."

Shane walked with him to the door, still feeling inexplicably troubled. "I haven't heard about her."

"Oh, she's only been in once or twice."

"And you questioned her both times?"

"Uh, yep. Me and Helen."

"Right." Oh no. Oh no, it was jealousy. What he was feeling was jealousy. "That's cool."

Ryan didn't reply for a moment, still avoiding his eyes. "How about we go to Bloody Mary after I finish... After the questioning. And we'll see if she has anything to say about the card."

Shane nodded, feeling the moodiness already beginning to creep in. "Fine. Great."

"I'll get you after?"

Shane was already off down the corridor, not looking back. "Yeah. Whatever."

* * *

"Back so soon, boys?"

Shane and Ryan stood in the doorway, looking just a tiny bit damp from the drizzle that had been going on since what felt like forever. Bloody Mary stepped aside to let them in, her hallway still smelling of various spices, nice and warm. 

"You seem troubled," she said, her relaxed drawl a nice change from the undeniably tense car ride over. "What's on your minds, hm?"

"What does this mean?" Ryan handed the tarot card over, following her into the sitting room from before. 

He sat down on the couch, readjusting his seating as Shane hesitantly sat down beside him. Something was going awry here, he could sense it. He'd have to be deaf, blind, and mute not to. They'd barely talked in the car. They couldn't look each other in the eye. It was a bit surreal, seeing as how only yesterday they'd been standing in the office break room, caught up in a game of Who's Hornier. Ryan closed his eyes; he shouldn't have asked Shane to stay last night. He shouldn't have. 

"Ah, the Devil." She looked from one to the other through her heavily-lined eyes. "Which one of you came upon this?"

"Me." Shane cleared his throat. "It was me. I found it."

"The Devil tends to have to do with the occult, the dark side of magic." She nodded to herself. "Yes, I think you were meant to come here."

"Huh?" Ryan frowned. "Like some premonition type stuff?"

"If you don't mind, I'm going to attempt something here." She took a worn-looking box of cards from a drawer in the bookshelf beside her, showing them to also be tarot cards. They seemed older than the one Shane had found, however. Ancient. "Have either of you ever had a tarot reading before?"

Shane rolled his eyes. "No. Because I think it's a load of crap."

Bloody Mary looked to Ryan for his reaction, to which he just shrugged.

"I actually agree with him here." Ryan raised his eyebrows defenselessly. "I don't see how cards can tell your future or whatever."

"It's not the cards, detective." She began shuffling them, her short fingers surprisingly nimble. "It's the energy that they gather. From the room. From the people interested."

Shane stopped her with a hand out, pointing at one of the cards. "...What's that one?"

She looked at the card, at the little image of the knight in black armor, with nothing but a dry skull peeking out from under the helmet. "Oh, it's Death."

He was silent. "Okay."

"Anyway, I'm going to read your relationship."

Shane almost choked on his own spit. "We're not- We aren't in a relationship. We just work together. That's all. Nothing else. Nada."

She raised a penciled eyebrow at Ryan's red face. "I didn't mean romantically. I meant as in how your situation will play out if you remain together. What the future may hold for you."

It was Shane's turn to redden now, turning his head away so his coworker couldn't see. "Oh. Yeah, of course. Duh."

After another minute of intense shuffling, she laid six cards face-down on the table, placing the others aside. Ryan and Shane looked at them with equal parts anxiety, equal part curiosity. 

She flipped the first card, nodding slowly. "Ah, the High Priestess. This card is you, Shane. The High Priestess can mean wisdom, but this is reversed. You aren't listening to yourself. You've lost your connection with your common sense, perhaps. You have repressed feelings, yes? Reversed, the High Priestess can also mean repression of occult knowledge." She looked at him. "You seem quite uneasy."

He shook his head. "Nope. I'm good. Ha ha."

"Now this one is you, Ryan." She turned the card over, once again taking a moment before speaking. "The Tower. You have walls up, you're hiding emotions, especially ones you deem inappropriate. Tell me, have you recently become aware of something that has shocked you?"

Ryan paused. "Maybe. A little."

"Whatever it is, it's rocked your foundations. Hence the reason why the Tower is crumbling. Have you been experiencing sleeplessness, anger, confrontation?"

His eyes were wide. "Yes."

She gave a small, knowing smile. "Don't look so worried. The Tower can mean an awakening. Don't try and resist any internal upheaval, because the Tower will fall, whether you like it or not. You've reached your limits, and you can no longer live with the tension you're experiencing."

The third card was flipped. "This card is your connection. What brings you two together."

Shane swallowed. "It's the Devil."

"It is indeed, sir." She tapped it with a red fingernail. "Look at the picture. The two people chained below the Devil. They may appear to be trapped, but they're not. The chains are loose. Perhaps you two are acting as if you're being dragged into something together, when really it's a voluntary choice made by both of you. You're both hell-bent on a certain endeavor. But the Devil himself in this photo means animalistic tendencies. Bonding. And sexuality."

The two men sat in silence, blatantly ignoring each other, and wishing she would just move on already. 

"The strength in your relationship." She turned the next card, smiling, much to their relief. "The World. You may have and may still experience hardships together, challenges, but they'll make you stronger. Wiser, even. You'll both reach a completion, not necessarily romantic, but something you will both be involved in. The World means unity." She turned the next card, pulling a bit of a grimace. "Ah, your relationship weakness is the Fool, reversed. You've been acting in total disregard of any potential consequences of your actions, maybe. How would you describe your relationship?"

After a moment's hesitant silence, Ryan spoke first. "Weird."

"Highly changeable?" she suggested. "Uncertain? Spontaneous at a whole new level?"

"Yup. That's probably more accurate."

She smiled again, that knowing smile, like she knew exactly when and how the world was going to end. "Neither of you are sure where you're heading. You don't know whether to trust each other. You're both risk-takers, thrill-seekers, and although all of this brings excitement and suspense, it brings uncertainty and insecurity too. Am I onto something here?"

Shane got to his feet, looking a bit pale. "I think we should go. Now."

"And this is whether or not your relationship will be successful," she continued, flipping the last card, seeing that Ryan was still watching the cards. "Hm. The Chariot, reversed. If you don't work together, you'll lose control, you'll lose power over the situation and be at its mercy."

"Ryan, come on."

"You may feel like you'll collapse under the pressure."

"Ryan!"

"Perhaps you're both channeling your aggression badly." She looked straight into Ryan's eyes. "Steer together. Or it will all fall apart."

"Ryan, come on, man!"

After a hurried goodbye, Ryan followed his coworker out the door, feeling strangely breathless. Shane didn't slow, yanking open his car door, slamming it closed after him. He barely waited for Ryan to get in before pulling away, breathing heavily, gripping the steering wheel unnecessarily tight. 

"Stop muttering, Shane. It's annoying."

"Shut up. Shut the hell up."

Ryan glared at him, not getting a hint of eye contact in return. "And don't yell at me in front of strangers, you dick. That was totally shitty."

"I literally just told you to shut up," said Shane through gritted teeth, eyes still glued to the road. "So shut up."

"You're just mad because she broke down our whole dynamic with just a few cards."

"Bullshit!" snapped Shane, hitting the steering wheel. "She didn't! She doesn't know dick about shit!"

"She was one hundred percent right the whole way through, Shane!"

"Well then how come there was nothing about you and a certain daughter of a certain missing couple, huh?" Shane looked mad, his face icy cold. "And how stupidly hot she is."

"You haven't even met her."

"I saw you! I saw you two laughing and giggling like a pair of fucking teenagers, all happy happy little-" He cut himself off, gritting his teeth. "God, it doesn't matter. Whatever. I don't care."

"You're _jealous_." Ryan turned in his seat to fix him with a surprised stare. "You're fucking jealous, I knew it."

“I- No, no, I’m not jealous." He exhaled sharply, impatiently. "You're stupid. And annoying. And I hate you and she can have you because you drive me fucking insane, Ryan."

“She was just in to provide some information on her missing parents, Shane. So shut up.”

“She’s obviously very funny,” continued Shane, his voice cold, clipped. "Since you couldn't seem to stop smiling."

“Dude. Stop." He sat back in his seat, arms folded tightly, jaw clenched. "And even if I was doing anything with her, it wouldn’t be any of your damn business. You have no right to be jealous.”

“I have no right to be jealous?”

“No. You don’t.”

"Right." Shane pulled into the station's car lot, somehow angrily parking. “So if I said to you right now that I’m seeing someone, you wouldn’t feel the tiniest bit jealous?”

The split second of hesitation did more than a thousand words ever could. “Nope." A pause. "But as a matter of interest, are you seeing someone?”

“As a matter of interest, huh?” repeated Shane dryly, undoing his seat belt.

“Just curiosity," said Ryan, doing the same. "That’s all.”

“Well, to quote you, it’s none of your damn business.” The car door slammed shut.

“Shane." Ryan got out on his side, the drizzle still going strong. "Are you seeing someone.”

“Maybe.”

“If you are I don’t care. I _don’t_ care. At all." He swallowed. "I just need to know.”

Shane hugged his jacket tighter around himself. “You need to know?”

“Yeah, because if you are then- then-” He fumbled for words, for any excuse. "Then I'm gonna just go with Jess."

"Oh, you're on a first name basis with her now, are you?"

"Maybe I am."

“Why wouldn't you just go with her anyway, Ryan?” He circled the car, pausing beside the bonnet to meet with the shorter man. "Me and you aren't anything. We'll never be anything. Because you're the most infuriating man I've ever met in my life."

“Then why are you so damn jealous?" shouted Ryan, the rain pattering off his coat. "What do you think I am to you?”

“You’re-” Shane paused, a scowl on his face. “You’re something. To me. I don’t know what. But the important thing is that that indicates that you’re somewhat mine, and I don’t want that bitch coming in here and taking you away from me.”

“I’m somewhat yours?” Ryan raised his eyebrows at this. “Way to make a guy feel good, Madej.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“If you want to act as if I’m something to you,” said Ryan sharply, feeling his heart racing in his chest. “then play the part, Shane."

The taller man looked down at him in silence, still breathing heavily.

Ryan swallowed. "Make me something to you.”

Shane didn’t reply. Not verbally, anyway. He pulled the shorter man forwards into a deep kiss, a hard one, a blatantly passionate one. Ryan allowed the taller man to push him back against the car bonnet, laying him down on it, the two of them entangled, their mouths still glued together. Shane could feel the hands on his back, clutching his jacket so tightly it was a wonder the fabric didn’t just tear right open.

“You’re- You're a mess." Ryan pulled him closer against him, kissing him fiercely, oblivious to the wet car, the dampness seeping through the back of his jacket. "You need to-"

"Shut up," muttered the taller man against his mouth, pausing for a long moment as he pressed his lips to Ryan's again, his hands holding the shorter man in place on the bonnet as they continued furiously making out, right in front of the station. Thank God it was raining, keeping everyone inside. "Get in the car. Get in the car right now."

Ryan was already vehemently pulling off his jacket as he circled to the back door, the rain icy cold through his shirt. "One minute you're telling me you hate me, the next you're-"

"I need you to shut your face and get into the car right now," said Shane heatedly, standing on the opposite side, pulling off his own coat before throwing it into the car. "I mean it. Get-"

"What the hell are you guys _doing_?" 

The two men jumped at the sound of Kelsey's half-giggled exclamation. She stood by the fire exit, umbrella in hand, Banjo trotting out beside her. And she looked positively delighted.

Shane stared at her, aware of how his shirt was basically soaked through, his hair damp. Not exactly inconspicuous. "...What are _you_ doing?"

"Letting Ricky out to go to the bathroom," she replied with a smirk. "But it looks like he isn't the only one doggin' it up."

"It's not-" Ryan shrugged his coat back on, making a face at the uncomfortable feeling of wet fabric on wetter fabric. "You better have a towel for Ricky. He'll get arthritis."

"Stop avoiding the question," she replied, looking at the sheepish looks on their faces as they headed for the door. "C'mon. You were about to bang."

"Stop being disgusting, Kelsey," said Shane dismissively, following the shorter man into the station. "I'd literally rather die."

They barely made it to Shane's office, the closest of the two. Shane shut the door firmly behind him before grabbing Ryan, driving the shorter man back against it, hard enough for the hinges to rattle, their mouths already working against each other, desperate, hands grasping, clutching at each other like they would literally die if they stopped.

“Just- Just fuck me,” panted Ryan, completely oblivious to everything else apart from Shane’s mouth, Shane’s tongue, Shane’s hands. “Now.  _Now_.”

He guided the taller man’s hands down to his belt, Shane’s fingers fumbling to unbuckle it, too preoccupied with Ryan’s mouth on his to really concentrate on the task. God, he needed this now. He needed it more than he’d ever needed anything. The belt finally fell loose, he moved his hands back up to Ryan’s face, kissing him hard, harshly, their tongues slick against each other, low moans on each breath.

Ryan broke off, keeping an arm tight around the taller man’s neck, their mouths centimeters apart. “I said  _now_ , Shane.”

“Stop talking,” he muttered, pushing the shorter man more firmly back against the door. “Shut up.”

Ryan moved forwards to kiss him, his head hitting back off the door as Shane did the same with twice as much fervor, pulling the shorter man flush against him.

“You’re just mad you lost,” said Ryan around his erratic breaths, pulling the taller man’s damp shirt open button by button, feeling Shane’s hands running along his waist as he hurriedly untucked his own. “You’re-”

“Shut your damn mouth, Ryan.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up.”

“I didn't lose anything." He pressed his hands to the door either side of the shorter man, feeling Ryan's fingers under his open shirt, hot against his skin. "The only thing I'm about to lose here is my patience, if you don't stop talking." 

Ryan pulled him down for another fierce kiss, wrapping his arms firmly around the taller man's neck, Shane's hands still holding him close, firm, the two of them so intent on finally getting rid of this unbearable tension that they hardly even noticed the polite knock on the door. 

For a split second, they simply stared at each other. Ryan shoved Shane aside, behind the door, hurriedly buckling his belt before opening it. 

"Oh, hey, Quinta!" He smiled a wide smile, hoping he didn't look too rattled. "Hi. Hello."

She frowned at him, brows knitted. "Hello, Ryan. What're you doing in Shane's office?"

"...Getting a file he left for me. I just can't find it." _Nice. Nice lie_. He could see Shane quickly buttoning up his shirt, face still flushed as he ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to pat it down. "So yeah."

"Right, cool. Well if you see him, tell him to get down to B." She turned away, glancing back over her shoulder. "You too, actually. It's important."

"Is it?"

"Yup. We found some bones. Two adults and a child."

He stood in stunned silence, mouth hanging open. "Is it the Jamisons?"

"Looks like it! Not too sure yet though, forensics is on it." She raised her voice as she receded down the corridor. "And dry yourself, you look like a drowned rat."

He felt Shane move to his shoulder, sucking air in through his teeth. "Well, Ryan. Maybe Bloody Mary was right about the Jamisons being murked."

Ryan couldn't look at him, not quite yet. "Which means everything else she said was probably true."

"Wait a few minutes before you follow, yeah?" Shane stepped around him, heading off after Quinta with a sidelong glance over his shoulder. "Maybe we _are_ both two risk-takers who don't care about any potential consequences."

Ryan wasn't sure whether he was supposed to laugh or not, because all of a sudden, this wasn't looking too good.


	11. The Four Horsemen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just as a warning, the plot's coming in now, and it gets a bit dark and grisly. As a disclaimer, I don't view Christianity as evil!!! But some stuff in the Bible is spooky so I'm using it. Also, the tarot cards are coming back sort of.

_She had thought she'd gotten away with it. She really had. The faked pizza delivery had been a stroke of genius, she'd thought. The Devil hadn't noticed a thing, she thought. Alas, such hopes were to be dashed._

_Niki Shenold had never liked the cult. She hadn't liked it when her husband had joined. She hadn't liked it when the Jamisons joined. However, she herself ended up joining. It seemed to be that, or be harried for the remainder of your days. But when she'd found the hit list, when she'd realized the people in it were going missing, turning up dead, slaughtered, sacrificed, she became frightened. Bloody Mary, she'd gone to. And there she'd received the number for Shane Madej, the head of Missing Persons. You can help, Bloody Mary had told her. You can help your friends._

_So she had. And she hadn't stopped looking over her shoulder since. Even as she sat alone in the church, listening to the old, weary priest rattle on, she was frightened. She clutched the rosary beads in her hand, cold and round; she was a Christian, a good Christian, she didn't want any part in what was going to unfold. The Four Horsemen. She closed her eyes, raising her fists to her forehead, beads hanging between her fingers. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse._

_"If a man commits adultery with another man’s wife—with the wife of his neighbor—both the adulterer and the adulteress must be put to death."_

_Niki opened her eyes at the change in voice. That wasn't the voice of a tired old man. That was the voice of a young woman, a woman frighteningly set in her ways, confident in her views. Terrifyingly determined._

_"But how far should we take this order from Above?" The Hierophant stood behind the altar, her silver-white hair sweeping to her waist, like a hooded cloak. "Upon which circumstances should one apply such an order?"_

_Niki got to her feet, the rosary beads slipping from her fingers._

_"When an individual proves themselves unfaithful," continued the Hierophant, her deathly pale eyes fixed on her as she raised her hands into the air. Her voice filled the empty church, swelling, without even having to be raised. "When a person shows infidelity of the most evil kind. When a woman lies to the people who she swore her loyalty to. Doth this not make her an adulteress? And the man she contacted, an adulterer?"_

_"No, please." Niki could see him coming towards her; the Hanged Man, his towering frame, approaching out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't look. She couldn't look or she'd scream. "Susan, I-"_

_"These false idols you have made contact with, these false beacons of hope you have turned your back on us for," continued the Hierophant, jewelled fingers clutching the edges of the altar as she leaned forwards. "We shall overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves with fire; and we shall hew down the graven images of their gods, and destroy the names of them out of that place."_

_"Susan, please, I didn't-"_

_The hand yanked her head back, the knife sliding across her throat. She clutched at the slash, warm blood spilling through her fingers, spluttering from her mouth. The last words she was ever to hear reached her ears._

_"We must destroy them totally," finished the Hierophant in a powerfully pious voice, the Hanged Man echoing her words. "Make no treaty with them, and show them no mercy."_

* * *

"There's no full remains." Quinta handed around the results from forensics. "But we have to assume the worst here. This is a homicide case now, and we have to start treating it as such."

"Where did the rest of the skeletons go?" asked Ryan in confusion. "If they weren't whole, that basically means they were planted, right?"

"Right."

"So we have to bring everyone back in for interviews?" asked Shane flatly, hearing the collective groan from the room. "All of them?"

"All of them. Jonathan, Shenold-"

A knock and simultaneous door opening revealed Kelsey, standing with her hand on her hip. "Sorry to interrupt, guys, but there's people here to be questioned."

"Is it the other kids?" asked Shane, raising his eyebrows as he looked over at her. "Of those missing people?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Ryan, Shane, hop on that," said Quinta, already turning back to the rest of the team. "I-"

"Wait, why Ryan?" asked Shane a bit defensively, halfway to his feet. "Sara's my partner."

"Yes, but Ryan's heading the case now."

The silence was louder than a scream. Ryan was staring at her in alarm, eyes wide. The team were staring at Shane, however. Waiting for a reaction. For some sort of response. His face was icy, unreadable. 

"Ryan's head of Major Crimes, Madej." Quinta stared him down, hands on her hips. "That's all. It's not a hidden message or anything."

"Right." He straightened up, not looking at Ryan across the room. He hadn't looked at him for the past few hours, anyway. "Right, fine. No problem."

Kelsey walked ahead of the two men, tapping away on her phone. "They want to be interviewed together, for support or something. Trauma was mentioned. I don't know."

"I suppose that's fine," said Shane in a forcibly light voice. "But I guess I have to double-check with my superior. Is it fine, Ryan?"

The shorter man spared him a cutting glare. "Shane, shut up."

"Do you approve of my decision?"

"I'm serious, Shane." They came to a halt outside the interview room, hearing Kelsey wandering off towards the offices. "Don't start being a dick. I didn't know she was going to do that."

"Oh, did you not?" Shane looked quite vexed indeed, arms folded tightly. "I should've fucking guessed. Really, I should have."

"Guessed what?" asked Ryan through gritted teeth, already knowing exactly what was going to come out of the taller man's mouth.

"That you were using me." He placed a hand on the door handle, not taking his eyes from Ryan's. "Distracting me. And I was stupid enough to fucking fall for it."

"Hold on a second," said Ryan sharply, Shane pausing in pushing down the handle. "I've been distracting you?  _I've_ been distracting _you?_  Are you fucking serious?"

"Oh, deadly serious." He lowered his voice to prevent whoever was in the room from potentially hearing. "Because you're exactly what I said you were. An office whore, Ryan. Tarting around the place trying to throw me off, because you don't know how else to move up in the world."

"You are so full of shit sometimes, you know that?" Ryan jabbed a finger into his chest, his other hand clenched into a fist. "You're the one who told me that I _mean_ something to you. Perhaps you're just too- too sensitive!"

"Excuse me?"

"You _care_ about me. Or something."

Shane scoffed, shaking his head. "Christ, Ryan. Don't flatter yourself here."

“You came to my apartment to make sure I was safe!"

" _You_ asked me to stay the night!"

Ryan pressed his lips together in a firm line, eyes still fixed on the taller man's. "We need to talk. Later."

"Yeah. Don't get your hopes up about that." Shane pushed open the door to the interview room, and if he thought his day couldn't get any worse, he was wrong. "Haven't you been in already?"

Jess Reiner smiled at him, an irritatingly pretty smile. "Is that how you usually begin questioning a group of highly-traumatized people?"

Shane looked the four people over. They didn't exactly _look_ traumatized. They appeared to all be in their late twenties, but this was all that they shared. Jess herself was the most normal-looking, with her thick dark hair and bright blue eyes. Beside her sat a man absolutely littered with piercings and tattoos, bald, smiling. He extended a patterned hand.

"Hector Smyth. Lisa's son." 

Shane shook the offered hand, not taking his eyes from Jess, whose own eyes were fixed on Ryan. "Yeah. Hi."

The next man stood up to give him an eager handshake, uncomfortably firm, pulling Shane forwards a bit. "David Lombard. Jerry's son. May he rest in peace."

"Hello." Shane pulled his hand from the man's crushing grip, wondering why all of them but Jess were watching him so closely. "I'll admit, I'm not used to having to look up at someone."

"Six eight," replied the man through his wild beard, an almost savage glint in his eyes. "A bit of a giant among giants, I've been called."

Ryan moved to the last woman, who sat in silence, pale eyes distant, flaxen hair piled on top of her head. He gingerly offered a hand, taking it back as she didn't even blink. "And you are...?"

"Her name is Susan," answered Jess, as David finally sat back down, not taking his eyes from Shane's. "She doesn't like to speak, unless it's to preach the word of Above."

"Right." Shane shared a hesitant look with Ryan, who still appeared to be in quite the mood with him. "Let's get started then, I guess."

"Would you like to tell us anything?" asked Ryan, unable to make eye contact with Jess, who he could feel watching him. He didn't want to... to hurt Shane? To annoy him? God, why did he even give a shit. "Anything at all would be great."

"My mother went missing six years ago," replied Hector, lowering his gaze, Jess placing a somewhat insincere hand on his shoulder. "She's gone. I've given up hope now."

"And my father went missing twelve years ago!" snarled David, slamming a finger down on the table before pointing it at Shane. "And you dipshits did nothing about it!"

Shane stared back for a moment, not exactly appearing intimidated. "If you'd refrain from being so aggressive, that'd be great."

"Oh I'm feeling aggressive, pal," he replied harshly, a hard glint in his eyes. "I'm feeling very fuckin' aggressive."

"Sorry, what's that?" Shane leaned forwards, frowning in concentration. "I- I can't really make out what you're saying through your facial pubes."

Ryan gave him a warning look. "Shane."

"Say that again, big man," said David, also leaning forwards, hands on the desk. "I dare you."

His three friends seemed uninterested in calming him, lazing in their seats. Jess raised her steely eyes to meet Ryan's, fluttering her lashes. He quickly looked away.

"I could help you out, man," said Shane with a lax smile. "Head on down to your nearest hardware store, pick yourself up a pair of shears. Or a lawnmower, maybe."

"Keep talkin'. Go on."

"I swear I've seen you somewhere before." Shane clicked his fingers, pointing at him. "You ever been on _Game of Thrones?_ "

"Shane, stop," said Ryan sharply, not liking the silence from the other three. "Come on."

"It's Tormund Giantsbane, Ryan! In the flesh."

David sat back as the white-haired woman rested a hand on his shoulder, seeming to relax instantly. "You're a funny man. Very fucking funny."

"I've been told," shrugged Shane, feeling Ryan placing a subtle hand on his leg, firm. _Enough_. "Now is there anything of importance you'd like to tell us?"

" _Please_ ," added Ryan, giving his coworker a sidelong disapproving glance. "We don't want to pressure you. If you don't want to talk yet, it's fine."

"Thank you, Ryan," said Jess in a husky voice, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at him. "That's so kind of you. You're such a nice guy."

Ryan felt Shane's hand slide on top of his, which was still resting on the taller man's leg, squeezing it. Just tight enough to get the message across.  _You’re something. To me. I don’t know what. But the important thing is that that indicates that you’re somewhat mine, and I don’t want that bitch coming in here and taking you away from me_. Ryan straightened up in his chair, moving his eyes away from Jess'. Hector was intently tracing out quick patterns on the table with a colorful finger, quickly, subtly. These people were weird. And not just 'my parents went missing' weird.

"Anything at all?" asked Ryan again, the silence beginning to make him uncomfortable.

"Look to your sins," said the white-haired woman, her blank-eyed stare fixed on him. Jesus, she'd make a porcelain doll look lively. "Both of you. You will die in your sins; for unless you believe that Above is as Below, you will _die_ in your _sins_." Her voice was eerie, hollow, yet still filling the air like smoke. "Go forth, and you will behold a white horse, and on it she shall sit with a bow, and a crown given to her, and she shall go out conquering and to conquer. Another, a red horse, shall go forth; and to him who sits on it, it will be granted to take peace from the earth, and that men should slay one another, and a great sword bestowed upon him."

Shane could feel his coworker's hand gripping his tightly, the two of them undeniably captivated by her intense stare. It was unnerving, her eyes like chips of ice.

"And forth shall go a black horse, and he who will sit on it shall have a pair of scales in his hand, to strike the wheat and barley from the land." She stretched a pale hand towards Shane, the black jewelry glistening on her fingers. "And then you shall behold an ashen horse, and she who sits on it will have the name of Death. Authority will be given to her over the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence." She curled her fingers into a fist, slowly, purposefully. "And the adulterer shall be thrown to the outer darkness, to suffer the fate he has sealed for himself."

"That's enough," said Ryan icily, seeing how thoroughly shaken Shane was. "If you've just come in here to mess around, you can go."

"Okay!" Jess hopped to her feet, smiling brightly at the two men. "This gave us some closure, so thanks!"

The three others filed out after her, David pausing to look back at Shane. He repeated the white-haired woman's closed fist, not taking his eyes from Shane's, before stepping out and closing the door after him. Ryan watched in bewilderment as his coworker stayed stock still, knuckles pressed against his mouth, eyes oddly watery.

"Are you okay?" He turned in his seat to face him, willing Shane to look at him, to stop acting so strange. "Shane? What's wrong?"

Shane took a deep breath, turning his head to look at the shorter man. "I had a dream. The night I stayed in yours."

Ryan waited expectantly; it wasn't really like Shane to hesitate. "...What did you dream about?"

"I-" He swallowed, looking genuinely afraid. "I had a dream where I was standing on a road, and this white horse came down to me. And on it... On it was a guy in black armor, and when the helmet fell open it was just a skull. I don't know, it just freaked me out." He paused, wondering if he should keep going. He didn't want to look stupid.

Ryan lowered his voice, not quite a whisper, but soft nonetheless. "You can tell me, Shane. Even though I'm still super-mad at you, I won't blab."

"It was Death." Shane's voice shook ever so slightly as he said the word, the name. "It was Death, Ryan. I saw it on Bloody Mary's tarot cards. And then this woman just- She said an ashen horse, and that on it would be Death. I just- I just-" He closed his eyes, ducking his head aside. He felt ashamed. Embarrassed. Even self-conscious. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

"Shane."

He opened his eyes as he felt Ryan's hand gentle on the side of face, turning his head back to look at him. Ryan was watching him without a hint of mocking, just concern. Even a little bit protective.

"You're not going to die," he said quietly, holding his gaze firmly. "It was just a dream. And that's me telling you this."

Shane nodded, realizing he'd placed his own hand over Ryan's. He liked it. He liked the feeling of Ryan touching him. Caring about him. And this was bad.

"Yeah. I know." He got to his feet, dropping Ryan's hand. "And watch yourself, Ryan. You wouldn't want to make it look as if you _care_ about me, now."

Ryan's shoulders slumped, his eyes rolling with such intensity his head moved with them. "For God's sake, Shane. Don't start this shit again."

"You started it in the first place!"

"You know what?" Ryan got to his feet, circling the taller man, going to the door and locking it. "We're talking. Now."

Shane scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, no. We're not. So step aside, Ryan."

"Do you like me."

He blinked at this, understandably taken aback. "Do I what?"

"Do you-" Ryan paused, hands on his hips, mouth a firm line. "Do you... have feelings. For me."

 "I- I don't know if- No. No!" He could feel himself reddening, Ryan's cheeks tinged a similar color. "I want to leave, Ryan. Let me out."

"Shane, just tell me." He swallowed, not moving from in front of the door. "I need to know. Because I have literally no control here, and I can't handle it."

"No, Ryan!" Did that sound too forceful? He wasn't too sure what level of force would sound convincing. "I don't have fucking feelings for you!"

"Then why do you care whether or not I get hurt?" Ryan let the words spill out in a rush, knowing that if Shane interrupted even once, he'd never say them. "Why did you come after me on the mountains? Why did you come to my apartment to make sure I was safe? Why did you agree to stay over? Why did you stop me from going into Bloody Mary's before we knew who she was?" It was clear the questions had been tormenting him, for who knew how long. "Why do you _care_ , Shane?"

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I can't talk about this right now, Ryan. I really can't."

Ryan swallowed. "So you do care about me?"

"Why do you want to know?" He realized he was shouting, but he just couldn't be quiet. Not right now. "Why do you want to know so badly, Ryan?"

"I just- I just want to!"

"Do _you_ have feelings for _me_?"

Ryan hesitated. "Shane, come on."

"What?"

"You tell me first."

Shane rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. "Typical. Really, just typical."

Ryan tilted his head slightly to one side, a narrow-eyed glare on his face. "Care to elaborate."

"Yeah, I will." He pointed a finger at the shorter man, his words cold, cutting. "You expect me to spill my innermost secrets out, but then you won't do the same yourself. If I went around doing half the stuff you do, you'd flip!"

"Meaning what?" demanded Ryan, still glaring at him.

"If _I_ went around flirting and-"

"For fuck's sake, Shane! Don't bring that up again!" He took a step forwards, fists clenched. "I wasn't fucking flirting with her. You're so fucking stupid when you're jealous, did you know that?"

"Well you might as well start flirting with her, Ryan!" He spread his arms, a carefree gesture of the most insincere kind. "Because I don't give a shit! Because I don't care about you. And I don't even like you as a person, really."

"Stop acting as if you own me or something!" He was bordering on furious now, and for once it didn't look like Shane was going to crack any diffusing jokes. "I can do what I want! You can't get jealous because as _you_ said earlier, we're not a thing!"

"And we aren't!" Shane jabbed a hard finger into the shorter man's chest, already regretting saying what he was about to say. "I don't want us to be a thing. And I don't want your attempts at being good, or- or nice, or any of that. I don’t even want to talk to you at all. Ever. All I want from you is good fucking sex, Ryan, and the only thing that could turn me off that is that I’d have to listen to your stupid voice during it!”

Ryan stood in stunned silence for a long moment. “You son of a fucking bitch.”

“Yeah, I-”

“Fuck you!” Ryan suddenly shoved him, hard enough to make the taller man stumble a few steps, the table screeching as he bumped against it. “Fuck off! God, I hate you so damn much I can't- Just fuck off! Jesus Christ!”

Shane stood in fuming silence as Ryan stormed off, a hand on his chest where the shorter man had pushed him. Well. Well, that had been bad. They’d never argued like that before. He could feel a strange anxiety bubbling up in his stomach, an apprehension at what was going to happen now. The best and worst case scenario seemed to be the same thing; Ryan would stop talking to him. Shane turned away, going a few steps in the opposite direction to Ryan before coming to a halt. For a few minutes, he simply stood, his mind unable to process the thoughts broiling in his head. His feet carried him back down the corridor, all the way to Ryan's office, pausing outside. The door was open a tad. Shane slowly pushed it open fully, seeing Ryan sitting at his desk, head hanging, fingers gripping his dark hair. His shoulders were rising and falling with each deep breath.

Shane shut the door over behind him, letting his hand drift down to the key. He turned it with a dull click before letting his hand fall back to his side. Ryan raised his head at the sound, his eyes tear-filled, visible even from across the room. Shane moved to stand beside his desk, the shorter man looking up at him, still appearing to be slightly peeved despite the watery eyes.

"I'm sorry." Shane's voice was hoarse, but not from the shouting. Simply because of how heart-wrenchingly sincere the words were. "I'm sorry, Ryan."

After a long few seconds, Ryan got to his feet, standing in front of the taller man. He kept his gaze lowered as he pulled Shane down, his eyes fluttering shut at the soft, lingering kiss. Shane let out a low sigh, half from the kiss itself, half because he was so relieved. His hands gripped Ryan’s waist, guiding him back against the desk, hearing the contents of it rattle as he pressed Ryan against it. He heard a soft moan from the shorter man as he did so, causing him to increase the pressure of his mouth on Ryan’s, a hand placed on the desk for balance. And God, it was good, it was always so damn  _good_ , how?

Ryan began undoing the taller man’s tie with impatient pulls, Shane placing his hands either side of him, bodies firm against each other, mouths moving together.

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Shane, breaking off for a split second, keeping their lips close. “I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I didn’t.”

Ryan abandoned unbuttoning the man’s shirt, slipping his hands around the back of his neck, kissing him hard, Shane pulling him closer as he did so.

“Ryan.” He could feel the shorter man breathing heavily, sitting up on the desk, going back to the shirt buttons. “I-”

“Shut up,” replied Ryan, firm, but not harsh. “It’s okay. I-”

“Ryan.” He pulled his coworker’s hands off his shirt, holding them away. “I’m sorry. And I want to show you.”

Ryan finally opened his eyes, looking up into the taller man’s, feeling something in him just… light up. Like a literal flame, fierce and hot. Shane’s gaze was intense, burning. Focused. The taller man pressed his lips to Ryan’s, a hand slipping up around the back of his neck as he pressed forwards against him, pulling him forwards simultaneously. Something was different; the whole thing was hotter, heavier than it had ever been. Ryan let his head tilt back, their tongues brushing, Shane’s hands pulling his shirt buttons open, fingers grazing his skin. His arm reached around the shorter man to sweep the bits and pieces off the desk before pushing Ryan flat on it, running his lips down his neck, his chest, feeling the fingers tighten in his hair.

“Fucking hell,” breathed Ryan, his other hand gripping the edge of the desk over his shoulder hard as Shane’s mouth travelled further down, pushing his shirt aside as he went. “ _Fuck_. Okay.” A shaky inhale, his head relaxing back against the desk, eyes closed. “Okay.”

* * *

_They'd gone too far. They'd gone too far this time. He turned to look at the four of them, hands on his hips, attempting to look imposing. He was, however, petrified._

_"Which one of you did this reckless act?" he demanded, hoping his voice didn't shake as much as he thought it had. "Step forwards."_

_The Hanged Man. Always the Hanged Man. He had a penchant for unnecessary violence, and a talent for it too. "It was me, Emperor. But I don't regret it. She was a fuckin' adulteress, a sinner."_

_"And Madej the adulterer." The Magician held the bunch of stones and jewels hanging around his neck. "Those who listen to the betrayer are a betrayer themselves. He knows not of the Above being as the Below."_

_"And he will go away to eternal punishment," said the Hierophant quietly. "But the righteous to eternal life."_

_Bobby Dean looked along the four young people in front of him; demons, they were. Literal demons. He couldn't look at the state of Niki Shenold, hanging behind him._

_"They'll find her," said Bobby Dean, beginning to realize just how much he'd lost control over these people. "You'll all be imprisoned."_

_"Our sacrifices are what keep us and our trade pure and safe." The Magician raised a tattooed hand. "As Above, so Below."_

_The other three repeated this in a murmur. Bunch of lunatics. Bobby Dean suddenly felt like a single leaf in a_ _tornado._

_"You seem afraid, Emperor." The Devil smiled at him, her eyes big and blue, and full of death. "You should be laid to rest."_

_"Yes, I'll call it a night. Clean this up a bit."_

_He looked them all over as he left, their eyes glued to him. Weird way to phrase 'going to sleep', but in the end, they probably weren't even aware of what they were saying. Or they were a bit too aware, as he was soon to find out._


	12. As Above, so Below

Ryan stared at the photos, unable to keep the horror off his face. “And she was just found like this?”

“Yup.” Andrew and Steven sat on the other side of his desk, waiting for his reaction. They both looked pale, a bit ill. “Literally nailed to the cross. Throat slit. And that weird banner around her neck."

"The priest bailed," added Steven, sitting upright in his chair. "He said he’s not interested in coming in for questioning, that this place is Satan’s home now. He’s swapping churches.”

Ryan picked up the photo of the banner, the black fabric with the pure white flower in the center. “Any idea what the flag means? Does it link to anything?”

“Nothing.” Steven cleared his throat, highly uncomfortable. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, Ryan. Is it that cult?”

“It’s some religious symbolism anyway. I mean, the carvings have to mean something.” He glanced at the plastic pocket holding the tarot cards. "And these probably mean something too."

“They were in her pocket. And the altar was covered in those carvings, man.” Andrew got to his feet, leaning forwards to point at the relevant photo. “All around the edges. And they weren’t hacked into the wood, they were, like, skillfully carved? I guess?”

“The person who did them has done it before,” said Steven. “That’s what we gathered, anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty plausible.” Ryan gathered the photos back up, handing them to Andrew. “Any luck with the hunting club?”

“We’re gonna go now.”

A pair of voices from the corridor grabbed their attention, all three of them looking to the door.

“You just don’t like him because he’s taller than you,” grinned Sara, her voice playful. “And being tall is part of who you are.”

“I don’t dislike people just because they’re taller than me, Sara,” came Shane’s reply, sounding very unimpressed indeed. “I dislike this guy because he’s weird.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m not _scary_ -weird!” He paused. “Am I?”

Ryan snorted, deliberately loud. “Absolutely not.”

“You can’t have an opinion on being scary, Ryan.” Shane appeared in the doorway to his coworker’s office, one hand on his hip, the other balancing a laptop. Sara rolled her eyes as she strolled past behind him. “Seeing as you barely scrape five foot.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow at him, smiling despite himself. “I’m five ten, Shane. Perfectly average for a man. The exact average, I think.”

“And look at him, Shane.” Steven gestured at Ryan, who sat down, folding his arms on the desk as he smiled. “He could probably crush all our skulls like week-old watermelons.”

“That's just Ryan's way of making up for lost height,” replied Shane with a flippant shrug, hiding the fact that he was by now very much familiar with the shorter man's physical strength. “I don't _need_ to work out that much. Since I’m over six foot and all.”

“Remember when you tried to crush an apple with one hand?” Ryan raised his eyebrows. “Your height didn’t help you there, dude.”

“You wouldn’t be able to do it either, Ryan.”

“I wasn’t the one who claimed I could!”

" _Anyway_." Shane stepped aside as Andrew and Steven passed by, already caught up in their own stupid debate. "Do you have a minute?"

Ryan nodded, remembering when he used to do such a thing with a grimace. "Yeah, sure. Since when do you bother asking?"

"Well I have to now," replied Shane dryly. "Seeing as you're heading the case."

"We talked about that, Shane. Come on."

"I'm just _kidding_ , Ryan." He joined the shorter man on his side of the desk, placing the laptop down in front of him. "That crap that the Susan girl was spouting kinda creeped me out, okay, and-"

"Something creeped the mighty Shane Madej out?" Ryan grinned up at him, getting a withering glance in return. "You sure you're showing this to the right guy?"

"Just promise me you won't cry when it gets too spooky for you." He tapped the screen, placing his other hand on the back of Ryan's chair as he leaned down. "Tell me, do any of those words seem familiar?"

Ryan squinted at the screen, his mouth moving as he silently read the article. "...So she stole all that prophecy stuff from the Bible?"

"The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Conquest, War, Famine, and Death." He turned his head to gauge Ryan's reaction, eyebrows raised. "And how many of them were there in that room?"

"...Four?"

"Four."

"Shane, wait." Ryan closed his eyes, giving a quick shake of his head, as if to wake himself up. "Are you trying to say these people are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?"

"I'm trying to say that they're weirdly obsessed with religion," replied Shane, shutting over the laptop so that Ryan wasn't distracted. "And I did some quick background on them, and guess what? David Lombard is a hunter. Down at the club."

"Seriously?" 

"Yep. And Hector Smyth is a surgeon, man. Not really relevant, but yikes."

Ryan paused. "I try not to judge people by their looks, but I'm gonna go ahead and say I'd never have put him down as- as _anything_ to do with medicine."

"But there's more." 

"There's more?"

"Oh yeah, baby." He straightened up, picking up his laptop and holding it under his arm like a newspaper. "There's not a single thing about them as teenagers. No school records, no yearbook photos, no past jobs. It's like they literally just appeared from thin air."

Ryan got to his feet, a puzzled frown on his face. "Nothing?"

"Nada."

"Weird."

They moved towards the door, side by side, step for step. It was almost unnerving, Ryan thought, how quickly the two of them melded together. Like they hadn't spent the majority of their careers here at each other's throats. There was still something bothering him, however, something left unsaid between them. He just couldn't put his finger on it. It was probably the fact that they still hadn't really... talked. About what they were. What they might become. Especially since Quinta was still pretty strict about her 'no workplace romances' thing. She thought it would distract them, and really, she was right. He _was_ distracted by the whole thing. _Come on, Ryan. You haven't even had sex. Yet._  But Shane had said he wanted to show he was sorry, and man, had he shown it. Hoo boy. 

"What do you think about Shenold?" asked Ryan, closing the door after them as they stepped into the corridor. "Cult?"

"Definitely. Bunch of insane people." Shane looked thoughtful as they continued on down towards the main offices, distractedly rubbing a hand over his mouth. "It's who the people are that's the problem. I don't even know where to start."

"I do." Ryan raised the hand holding the photos and the plastic pocket of tarot cards. "Our private fortune-teller."

Shane's smile dropped, his hand shooting out to swipe one of the photos from behind the cards. "What's this?"

"There was a banner around Shenold's neck." Ryan nodded towards the photo. "That's it. Why?"

"I don't know." He frowned at the card, feeling a memory niggling at him, demanding attention yet hiding out of sight whenever he almost had it. "I just feel like I've seen it before."

"Jesus, Shane." The shorter man took the photo back, sliding it in among the others. "You're getting worse than me."

"I hope to God I'm not. There's been enough changes in our dynamic for me."

"Yeah." Ryan bit his lip before putting the question on his mind out there. "Yeah, about that. About yesterday. Can we... Should we talk about it?"

Shane was quiet for a moment, coming to a halt. "Yeah. I guess we should."

"Okay. Cool."

"Just not here." He glanced over his shoulder, just to make sure their boss wasn't lurking. "But later."

"How much later?"

"I don't know! Just whenever it comes up!"

"Shane, I need to be prepared!" Ryan shrugged helplessly. "It's kinda stressing me out, and I may or may not have had basically no sleep last night, and I need to know, dude!"

"If this is gonna go anywhere, you're gonna need to learn to relax."

"If what's gonna go anywhere?" came Kelsey's voice as she poked her head out of the break room door.

"The case," said Shane smoothly, turning to look at her. "The Ry Guy is panicking about it."

"Well isn't everyone?" she shrugged, remaining in the doorway. "That body was grisly as hell. Pretty nasty shit."

Shane and Ryan nodded in unison, smiling amicably at her, then at each other. Just for a split second. A flash of eye contact. Kelsey's eyes narrowed at this fleeting gesture of friendship.

"Okay." She tilted her head back, taking a deep breath. "Okay, what was that?"

"What was what?" asked Ryan, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I can smell it." She straightened up, arms folded. "I can taste it. I can hear it. I can just about _feel_ it, Bergara."

Shane frowned at her. "Are you on something right now?"

"And I can most definitely see it," she continued, pointing from one to the other. "The sexual tension. It's in the air. It's all over the place."

"I didn't think that would be anything new here, Kelsey," said Shane with a half-smile. 

"You guys did it," she persisted. "Intercourse. Oh, yes you did."

"No we didn't!" Ryan stared at her with wide-eyes. "You're just being crazy."

"Then what's with the not being borderline abusive towards each other? You just _smiled_ at each other, for God's sake."

Shane glanced at the shorter man. "Accident."

"Quinta would be very annoyed if two of her employees were banging on the DL," she said in a sing-song voice. "Especially during a case as big as this. And with the lead detective as well? Oooh, no. She won't like that."

"Good thing that we aren't doing anything then," said Shane in a flat voice, leaving the scowling up to the shorter man. "But hypothetically, why would you care?"

"Yeah, what business is it of yours, Kelsey?" 

"Oh, I have a favor or two on my mind," she replied with a shrug, sauntering between them, off down the corridor. "Oh, yes I do." She suddenly turned, pointing at her own eyes, pointing at her two colleagues, then moving on.

The two men stood in silence as she strolled off cowboy-style, hands in her pockets. Ryan swallowed, looking up at Shane.

"What the hell was that?"

Shane looked equally concerned. "I have no idea. But if I'm honest here, the risk is making me want to seal the deal. Like, now."

"The danger makes it exciting," agreed Ryan in a hushed voice.

"I'm gonna be even more honest and say that entire confrontation kind of turned me on."

They stood for another long moment, eyes locked, even as Adam shuffled between them. He still seemed slightly scarred from the incident room incident, so long ago.

"But we still need to go to Bloody Mary," whispered Ryan.

"Just- Let's just walk a bit." Shane exhaled sharply, hands on his hips, like he'd just come back from a run. "To cool off."

"I'm gonna go this way," said Ryan slowly, backing away, unable to take his eyes from the taller man's. "And you're gonna go that way. And we're not gonna act on this."

"Walk faster then."

"I-"

"Faster, Ryan! Go!"

"Okay! Okay!"

* * *

It hadn't worked. They'd made it to Bloody Mary's house, then found themselves delayed in the car, entangled in the back seat, physically unable to continue being around each other for even another minute without letting off some steam. Bloody Mary opened the door before they could knock, a penciled eyebrow raised at the two cops huddled under the porch. It was raining again. The sort of rain that's basically mist, the sort where you don't even notice the wet until you're soaked.

"So," she drawled, looking from one flushed face to the other. "Recreating that scene from _Titanic,_ are you?"

They glanced back at the car, finally noticing the steamed-up windows, Ryan's smeared hand prints visible even from the porch. Shane burst out laughing at the frozen look on the shorter man's face, wiping away a stray tear as he turned back to Bloody Mary. She looked as if she was trying not to do the same.

"I'm gonna say I'm not surprised," she continued with a grin. "Your auras showed a connection that I very rarely see. True passion. It was a matter of time."

"Thank you, sensei."

"Would you shut up?" muttered Ryan, throwing a disapproving look at his coworker as he passed the plastic pocket of tarot cards over to her. "I know we keep plaguing you, and sorry about that, but these were found on a murder victim only this morning. Could you help us a little? Do they mean anything? And also if you could just pop on a pair of gloves before you touch the cards, since they're actually evidence. They shouldn't even be here, to be honest."

"Of course. Please, Shane and Ryan,  _entrez_." She took the plastic pocket, shaking the cards into her now-gloved hand as she followed them into the warm, cosy sitting room. "Yes, yes, I know these. They're part of the Major Arcana. Please, sit down. Settle in."

They did so, taking the offered mugs of herbal tea with a little bit of confusion. It was as if she'd been expecting them. Ryan was beginning to realize that this woman could become a very, very valuable ally, if her actions were as mystical as her words could be. They waited for her to finish examining the evidence, the woman looking at the four cards as if they were a collection of complex Shakespearean poetry.  

"This is the Hanged Man." She placed the relevant card down, giving them both a long look. "A bit of the more mysterious ones in a deck. He's hanging upside-down, as you can see, but look at his face. His expression is calm, as if he's at peace with the situation."

Shane frowned. "So like, a martyr or something?" 

"Someone who believes that the violence around them is for a good cause," she clarified, before placing down the next card. "This one you've seen. The Devil, if you look at their hands, has two fingers up on each, but one hand is pointing up and one is pointing down. This is actually a pretty frequent position found among religious imagery, usually to show a connection with the heavens and the earth. But these two people chained below the Devil show that he, _or_ she - the figure on most decks tends to be a hermaphrodite -  has influence over them, appealing to the more sexual, animalistic nature of humans."

The next card was placed down on the table, one neither of the cops had seen before.

"The Magician." She spoke matter-of-factly, as if teaching a class. "His hands are in the same position as the Devil, but he's holding a wand. The wand symbolizes his ability to bridge the gap between the heaven and the earth. And last but not least is the Hierophant. Once again, the same hand positions, as you can see. The Hierophant would symbolize a higher knowledge, represent a connection between the heaven and the earth. A true pontiff, basically the connection between deity and humanity." Bloody Mary sat back, nodding to herself. "Yet I don't see how any of these could relate to a murder. Which means these are most likely your murderers."

Shane and Ryan glanced up as one, looking equally alarmed. If this had been a few weeks ago, they would've laughed her theory off. Maybe even ridiculed her. However, it wasn't everyday a death was so wrapped up in wild symbolism, and really, they needed help.

"Four. Four again." Shane pressed his lips together in a line. "That number is beginning to make me feel a bit uneasy, Ry."

Ryan searched his pockets for the photos of the carvings on the altar, passing them over to her with eager eyes. "And do these mean anything?"

Her eyes narrowed not in confusion, but in dislike as she took the photos. "Yeah, I know all of them. Demonic symbols. These small ones here are sulphur, chaos, the Evil Eye, and that one's the Udjat. All meaning that Satan is watching, judging, and the sulphur symbol is to do with the fire and brimstone bit of hell. They're all also deliberately harmful. This bigger one here is Lucifer's sigil. But this giant one here." She tapped it with her fake nail, Shane and Ryan leaning forwards to get a closer look. "The Hex. Those two overlapping triangles are to do with the realm of spirits, and the materialistic realm we humans live in. It's to show union. Whoever carved that is looking to increase the potency of their desire with the spiritual realm and impose their will in the world. It has a saying usually associated with it, it comes from an ancient witchcraft in Egypt; 'as Above, so Below'. And the..." Her voice trailed off at the frozen faces of the two men. "You alright? Tea not good?"

"Thank you for your help," said Shane, getting to his feet as Ryan hurriedly took the evidence back from Bloody Mary. "We- We have to go. Quick."

"Alright. You boys stay safe, you hear? And never hesitate to come 'round." 

They paced down the driveway towards Shane's car, the rain whipping into their faces, light but strong. 

"Don't tell me I'm going insane here." Shane started the engine, seeing the wide-eyed look of terror on his coworker's face. "Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Four tarot cards left. And those four weirdos in yesterday?"

"The Jamisons thought they had ghosts," said Ryan suddenly. "They thought they had three to four. Four. It's them. It has to be them. It-"

"Ryan, relax." Shane rested a hand on his coworker's leg, giving him a stern look. "Don't be jumping to conclusions."

"But we at least have to bring them in for questioning!"

"Agreed." They pulled away from the comforting lights of Bloody Mary's, seeing her out on the porch, running her hands along the wooden dolls like they were lucky coins. "Especially that David guy. He was strange, Ryan. He wanted to fight me, literally wanted to fight me. Did you see it?"

"Yeah." Ryan shrugged. "It's probably just some alpha male thing."

"Meaning?"

"You're freakishly tall, he's freakishly taller, you-"

"I don't dislike people who are taller than me!" he insisted. "Why does everyone think that? I mean, do you hate every twelve-year-old you meet?"

Ryan stifled his laugh, turning his head away to roll his eyes. "Whatever, dude. You're competitive, and you were being an asshole to him."

"He was being aggressive, Ryan."

"He'd pummel you into the ground, Shane. No offense."

A long pause, Ryan sneaking a sidelong glance to see the fuming look on Shane's face. Yep, that comment wasn't appreciated.

"I can fight," blurted out Shane, finally. "I _could_ fight. I mean, I grew up with a brother. It's not like I've never engaged in a bit of fisticuffs."

"Do you _want_ to fight him or something?"

"No!" Shane hesitated. "I just- I didn't like his attitude."

"Because you felt _threatened_." Ryan took his buzzing phone from his pocket, ignoring Shane's continued rant as he answered Quinta's call. "What's up? Oh. Oh, shit. Yeah, we're on our way. Okay. Yeah. Bye."

Shane had gone quiet at the alarmed look on Ryan's face, raising an eyebrow. "What? What's happened now?"

"Bobby Dean died, dude. Bobby Dale's father." He put his phone away, not liking the uneasy feeling in his stomach. "Outside his home. Heart attack."

Shane whistled through his teeth, parking up outside the station. "Jesus. You'd feel sorry for the mother, wouldn't you? Connie."

"Her daughter, her son-in-law, her granddaughter." Ryan sighed heavily. "Bobby Dean was the last thing she really had that connected her to the Jamisons. And he was just her son-in-law's father. Sucks."

Shane stared straight ahead, a chill growing in his chest as his thoughts began to piece together a very, very ugly picture. "That's two possible witnesses gone. Shenold and Bobby Dean. In twenty-four hours."

Ryan turned his head to look at him, seeing the troubled expression on his coworker's face. "Connie lives out of state, Shane. She'll probably be fine."

"But what about that guy on the mountain? Jonathan? Real name Simon." He looked back at Ryan, a hand still on the steering wheel. "He's our last real witness, Ryan. The last guy to see the Jamisons alive. And Bloody Mary said he used the fake name because of the cult."

"You're not going up there."

Shane frowned at the sudden firmness in Ryan's voice. "Excuse me?"

"You're not going. It's getting dark out. It can wait until morning." He undid his seat belt, avoiding Shane's eyes. "Andrew and Steven can do it, anyway. Or Sara and Helen."

"You can't tell me what to do, man."

"I can, Shane." He pushed the door open, giving his coworker a look over his shoulder. "I'm heading the case. And I'm saying you're not going."

"Woah, hold on a damn second." Shane got out on his side, taking off after the shorter man, who didn't even look back as he went up the steps to the doors. "Ryan, look at me when I'm talking to you."

The shorter man turned at the fierceness behind the words, scowling at him. "Don't talk to me like that."

"I want to go," said Shane heatedly, moving up the damp steps towards him. "Because I know more about this line of questioning than any of the others do. And you know that's the truth."

"I said no."

"And I want to know why the fuck not!" 

 _Because it's too dangerous_. "Because I'm in charge here, Shane! You're running around the place without a care in the world, and that's not how I run things."

"Ryan." The name was said slowly, a warning. "Don't start acting like a total douche, alright. I'm going."

"You're not. And that's that."

Shane followed him doggedly down the hall, shrugging off his coat as he went, the shorter man doing the same. "So you're really trying to tell me I'm not allowed to do something."

“Yes, Shane.” He turned to look up at him, keeping his gaze steady, hoping to regain some control here. “I’m heading the case, and I don’t give you permission.”

The taller man stared at him, a lopsided smile spreading across his face. “I can’t take you seriously. I’m sorry.”

“Well you better start.” He turned away him, continuing on down the corridor. He could hear his coworker following. “I want Andrew and Steven to go to the Jonathan guy in the morning. Not you. And my word is final.”

The long silence should’ve alerted him, really. Like the tide receding before a tsunami. Ryan felt the hands grab his arms, positively bundling him into the dim, empty incident room they were passing. He fell back against the table, placing his hands back on it to steady himself as the door shut, eliminating the light from the corridor.

Ryan didn’t even have time to say a word before Shane was on him, hands running freely, mouth efficiently shutting him up. He pulled the taller man harder against him, hopping up onto him, legs around his waist as he continued kissing him, their mouths very much familiar to each other by now. This was a stupid move. He knew it was. How was this going to show authority over the case? These thoughts were extremely brief, however, quickly overcome by the moment at hand.

Shane laid his coworker flat on the table, pulling him forwards by his belt so that their hips stayed interlocked. “Your word’s final, is it?”

Ryan nodded breathlessly, even as he felt Shane’s fingers tight around his wrists, pinning them to the table above his head. “Yeah. It is.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to change your mind.”

“If you can.”

“Oh, I can.”

Ryan closed his eyes, inhaling sharply as Shane immediately targeted his neck, swiftly working him up, almost expertly by now. Ryan tilted his head aside to allow easier access, his chest rising hard and falling harder. He wriggled slightly as he felt Shane’s mouth push under his jaw, deep, determined movements.  _Fuck. Fucking fuck._  The grip tightened on his wrists as he tried to touch back, Shane pushing into him, the table jolting under them with the momentum.

“God dammit, Shane.” He basically snarled the words through gritted teeth, feeling his coworker join him up on the table, still pushing down on Ryan’s wrists to keep them pinned. “Just- I’m not gonna just- Jesus fucking  _Christ,_ I _-"_

"Shh! Too loud!"

"Well my sincerest apologies, but it's not-"

“HA!” The door slammed open fully, the stark light from the corridor falling across the scene. “I knew it!”

Shane slid off the table in his haste to get down, striking his head off it as he fell, cursing loudly. Ryan remained on his back like a stuck turtle, eyes just visible as he raised his head to look at Kelsey's silhouette in the doorway.

"You fools." She raised her hands as she gave a long, evil laugh. "It's only been four hours, and you've been foiled. I've got you now!"

Shane got back to his feet, moodily rubbing the side of his face where it had bounced off the table. Ryan joined him, the two of them looking appropriately sheepish, like two students caught cheating on a test. And Kelsey, the teacher with dubious morals.

"Now before you speak," she said, giving a shrug. "I won't snitch. Because I don't care enough, really. As long as you do something for me."

Ryan took a deep breath, expecting the worst. "Right. What."

"Get that guy's number for me."

Shane and Ryan stared at her with raised eyebrows, dumbfounded. 

"You know the guy." She stood upright, flexing her arms. "Grr. Beard. He was in for questioning yesterday. Bit hipster chic, y'know."

Ryan snorted. "Look, I don't think he's really the sort of guy you'd-"

"The vagina wants what it wants, Ryan." She said it as if she couldn't help it, giving a shrug. "And my girl wants his guy."

"Jesus." 

Shane shook his head with a sigh, a hand covering his eyes, the other resting on his hip. "I- I guess. I guess we could get it for you. As long as you swear on your fucking life you won't tell Quinta what you just saw."

She smiled a devious smile. "I won't. As long as I have that guy's number in my hand by tonight."

Ryan grimaced. "Tonight?"

"Him and the creepy girl are coming in for questioning in like, half an hour." She stepped aside to let them pass, still smiling. "Apparently CCTV showed them talking to Bobby Dean after church."

"Why?" Shane could feel that chill again, the ominous sort, heavy on his chest. "Bobby Dean had a heart attack, right?"

"Yeah, but an induced one, according to the forensics nerds. They found pure alcohol in his heart."

Ryan shared a long look with Shane before turning his eyes back to her. "We'll do the interview. Me and Shane. Call us when they're ready."

"Yeah, cool." 

Ryan and Shane were, however, overwhelmed with how not cool this situation was. And an interview had never filled them with such dread before.

* * *

_"We go in, we don't mention you, or Jess." David nodded, ducking out of Hector's apartment. "Yeah. It's easy. And if that smartass piece of shit runs his mouth, I break his teeth."_

_"You don't do anything, Dave." Hector stepped aside to let Susan drift past, joining the towering man in the corridor. "Violence isn't always the way to go."_

_"You sure?"_

_"Brutal violence isn't always the way to go," said Hector, correcting himself. "And don't mention my job. They hopefully won't look into me so much."_

_"What if the hospital notices the missing alcohol?"_

_"Then I'll tell you which doctor says it to me, and you do what you usually do."_

_David grinned through his beard, following the silent Susan off down the corridor. "Good. Good, I like that."_

_"Of course you do." He nodded towards Susan. "And try not to let her go on any more spontaneous preaching sessions. She might start drawing attention."_

_"Worry not." Her voice was lilting, soft-spoken. "We are doing what we have been sent to do. Whoever may shed our blood, by us shall his blood be shed also. As Above, so Below."_


	13. Conquest, War, Famine, Death

She always wore black. Black clothes, black jewelry, black ribbon tying up her cloak of white hair. This alone would've made Ryan view her as just... weird. But it was her eyes that made him realize there was something truly off about her. They were cold, dead, the color of snow that's been on the road for too long. Even as she looked at him, it was as if she was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere he'd never, ever want to visit.

"Now, Miss Cooper." Helen spoke first, seeing as Ryan didn't seem to want to even look at the woman sitting across from them. "This is your car, yeah?"

Susan's eyes drifted down to the photo placed in front of her, her head moving awkwardly, robotically. "Yes."

"And could you tell us why it was seen driving away from Bobby Dean's home at half eleven last night?" 

She continued staring at the photo, a deathly pale finger reaching out to touch it. "Delivering justice."

Ryan and Helen exchanged uncomfortable looks, waiting for her to go on. She didn't.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Ryan, swallowing as her eyes landed on his. Chills. "What sort of justice? And to who?"

"The only sort of justice."

Ryan was silent for a moment. "To Bobby Dean?"

She shook her head, the white wisps of loose hair floating as she did so. "...No comment."

She spoke the words as if they were a different language, her mouth moving as if she'd never said them before. Everything she did seemed to be just that bit too awkward to be casual.

"You know Bobby Dean, though." Helen waved a hand to get the woman's attention, raising an eyebrow at the blank stare. "You were seen on CCTV, talking to him outside the church?"

* * *

"Yeah, because he was looking for fuckin' closure or something." David sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, bushy eyebrows knitted in a permanent frown. "I don't know him. Suze doesn't know him. He just came up to us because he was wondering how we coped with our family members going missing. That's all."

"So you're saying you've never met him before?" asked Sara, a suspicious eyebrow raised. 

"I just fucking said that."

"Watch it, pal." Shane placed an elbow on the table, pointing at the man sitting on the other side. "That's your second warning."

"I don't want to be questioned separately," said David heatedly. "I want to be questioned with her."

"Well you can't."

"This is fuckin' bullshit." The man was very, very reluctant to cooperate, ever since he sat down. "And I don't want to be questioned by you and this bitch."

"I said watch it," said Shane sharply, icily. "I'll give you one more chance to check yourself, and then I think my patience might just decide to run out."

"I'm terrified."

"Can you tell us if Bobby Dean was acting oddly?" asked Sara loudly, sitting forwards, just wanting to get this whole thing over with. "Anything weird at all?"

"Yeah. He seemed to be in pain or something." David tapped his broad chest. "Kept rubbing around here. Really fuckin' annoying."

"And anything other than that?"

"No."

Shane raised an eyebrow at the blunt response, distractedly tapping his pen off the table. “Surely you have a bit more to say than that? Because you were simply full of conversation last time you were in.”

“Oh, did I hurt your feelings?” replied David flatly.

“Nah.”

“Yeah. I’m not usually one to hurt feelings.” He leaned forwards. “There’s better things to hurt, at the end of the day.”

Shane stared at him for a moment. “Is that a threat?”

“If the boot fits.”

Sara cleared her throat, sparing a quick scowl at Shane. “Sir, I’m gonna have to remind you that it’s illegal to try and intimidate an officer of the law.”

“It’s alright, Sara.” Shane shrugged, resting his head on his hand as he smiled, eyebrows raised. “I’m not intimidated.”

David glared at him, shoving his clenched fists under the table, out of sight. "Robby, Bobby, whatever his name is, said he was going to some guy on the mountain. John or something. That's all."

* * *

"Jon _athan_ , maybe?"

"Yes."

God, it was like trying to draw blood from a stone. "And did he say why?"

"No."

Ryan sighed heavily, sharing a weary look with Helen. "And you sure your car wasn't up around Bobby Dean's for a reason?"

"Yes."

They sat in silence for another long moment, hoping she would just _speak_. Susan seemed perfectly happy to sit in the quiet, staring into nothing, hands folded on her lap. Ryan rested his head on his fist, his other hand tapping out an agitated rhythm as he watched the woman. They needed something out of this. She was most definitely not innocent, or at least not as innocent as she was trying to appear. 

"Can we search your home?" asked Ryan suddenly, earning a surprised look from Helen. "Just to clear up any suspicion?"

Susan looked at him for a long moment, in which she only blinked once. "Yes. I don't see why not."

"Great. Great, okay." Helen got to her feet, nodding at the woman. "Thank you for coming in."

Susan also stood up, following them to the doorway. She paused beside Ryan, who remained holding the door open. Her hand floated up to hold his face, so icy cold he gave a small gasp, unable to take his eyes from hers.

"Remember," she said, quietly, as soft as snow. "When justice is done, it brings joy to the righteous, but terror to the evildoers. Choose wisely."

He stayed where he was as she drifted off down the corridor after Helen, towards the exit. He didn't like this. He didn't like her, he didn't like David, he didn't like the other two. They were strange, and not in an entertaining way. He turned as he heard Shane's voice coming from around the corner, smirk audible.

"I need it for the records."

"Then I'll give it at the desk. Okay?"

"Mobile number specifically. That's very important."

"Fine." The man's voice was tight with anger. "Why are you fucking following me?"

"I'm showing you out, man. Hey, your friend Hector is a surgeon, right?"

A pause. "The questioning is over." 

"What hospital does he work at?"

"Leave me the fuck alone, before I-" David cut himself off, his towering frame appearing down the end of the corridor. "Great. This little jerk."

Ryan watched them come towards him, and honestly, despite knowing he wasn't particularly short, he felt like a damn toddler. 

"The correct title is 'detective', actually. You seem to have a bit of a problem with authority." Shane wandered to a halt beside Ryan, hands in his pockets. "I'll tell ya, Ryan, this guy is very suspicious to me. Very temperamental."

"And I'll tell _you_ this," replied David over his shoulder as he stormed off. "You're gonna choke on your words one day. I promise."

"Oooh, did you hear that?" Shane gave his coworker a playful nudge, grinning. "He promises."

"You're gonna get your ass kicked, Shane." Ryan shook his head, a fond smile on his face. "And I have a feeling you'll deserve it."

"Ah, whatever." He nodded back towards the break room, the two of them strolling towards it. As per usual, Banjo resided in his bed under the table, tail wagging as he saw them. "That creepy woman say anything interesting?"

"Yeah. She mentioned the mountain guy." Ryan went straight for the kettle, giving Banjo a distracted pat on the head as he did so. "And she said something really weird. She said she 'delivered justice' or something. And then when she was leaving, she told me that justice makes righteous people happy but evil people not so much? Then she told me to _choose_." He gave Shane a confused look. "Choose what? To be righteous or not? I don't know."

"Yeah, Lombard mentioned the mountain guy too." Shane placed two mugs down beside the boiling kettle before crouching down to give the dog a nice scratch. "I don't know if you've changed your mind on going up there tonight, but I sure as hell haven't. I want to go, Ryan."

"Shane..."

"Ryan," he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Come on."

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding his coworker's gaze. "I don't know, dude. It's dark out. What if... What if... I don't know."

"Hey, man." He straightened back up again, placing a hand on the shorter man's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'll be careful. I'll bring Banjo."

Ryan bit his lip, looking up at him for a moment. This was the one thing he'd been afraid would happen. He'd start altering his own decisions in an effort to keep Shane from getting himself killed. He could always just let Sara go with him, but if anything she'd just encourage his tomfoolery. "I'll come with."

He saw the flicker of relief across the taller man's face, quickly disguised with the usual smirk. "You think you'd be able to protect me from the big bad mountain man?"

"I'm not concerned about having to protect you from him," replied Ryan wryly, turning away to pour the two mugs of coffee. "More to protect you from yourself."

* * *

"Just fucking knock, Ryan."

"Shh. Shut up." Ryan paused with his fist raised to knock on the rickety wooden door, tilting his head to the side with a frown. "You hear that?"

He heard Shane sighing heavily from the other side of the fence. "No, I didn't hear anything. You're just freaking yourself out."

He was right. Ryan _was_ freaking himself out. The little wooden shack was literally in the middle of nowhere, isolated completely from the rest of the town, way at the end of a road that barely passed as such. The curtains were drawn, a light on in one window. Shane had had to boost Ryan over the stout fence, the only thing that looked truly sturdy out of the surrounding area. Yes, a lot of effort had been put into the fence. It barely shook as Ryan scrambled over it, falling to the dried leaves on the other side. Empty dog kennels rested along the inside of the front lawn, one large, one small. Ryan took a deep breath, about to knock again when he heard a low grumble, a grumble that quickly turned to a growl. 

"Ryan?" Shane sounded alarmed, the worry evident in his voice. The sound of Banjo pawing at the fence accompanied him. "You alright, buddy?"

"Uh... I don't know." He stayed on the porch, which was lit by only a single oil lamp, the surrounding garden shrouded in a flickering darkness. "I... Oh fuck."

"Banjo's going a bit loopy back here, Ryan."

Ryan didn't reply. He was too busy pressed back against the door, watching the wolfhound emerge from the dark, up the steps, teeth glistening in the candlelight. A pair of shining eyes were visible behind him, their snarls echoing each other. Ryan jumped as the wolfhound gave a sudden snap, the sort that sent the slobber swinging from its mouth. 

"Shane." His voice was trembling, his heart thumping too fast to be safe. "SHANE."

"What's that growling, man?" He heard the thump of something hitting the fence, Shane's hands and eyes appearing over the top. "Oh shit. Oh shit, Ryan! Hold on!"

He vanished behind the fence, reappearing seconds later after taking a quick run-up. He struggled to get over the top, the wood digging into his ribs, his hands. Ryan had a shaky hand out towards the wolfhound, eyes wide in terror. The dog came up just past his waist, and behind it was a bull terrier, barely coming up to the wolfhound's knees, yet appearing to be twice as eager to start biting. They ignored Shane, who was halfway over the fence, Banjo's alarmed barks encouraging him to speed up.

"Ryan!" He dropped to the ground, stumbling to one knee in his urgency to cross the lawn. "Ryan, just-"

"What do you want?" came a gruff voice, tinged with fear. A short old man came out from around the side of the house, shotgun raised in shaking hands. "I told you before, I don't want no part in your crazy religion. I don't want it. I'm a God-fearing man, I don't have time for this."

"No, no, we're cops!" Shane basically ripped his badge off his belt, holding it up in plain sight. "We're cops, we're just here to- Call the dogs off!"

The man squinted at the badge before giving a sharp whistle through his teeth. Like someone had shot a gun, the two dogs hopped away from Ryan, bounding back to their owner. Ryan slumped against the door, resting his head back against it, panting for breath. He could feel his heart still racing under his hand.

"You'd best come inside." The old man beckoned for them to come around the back. "Can't go in the front. They'll see."

Ryan followed, still thoroughly shaken, feeling himself calm down as Shane's arm rested across his shoulders, guiding him through the dark after the old man. The soft light from the back door gave them a vague direction, the leaves crunching under their feet.

"Hurry." The man sounded panicked, ushering them inside. "Please."

They did so, feeling the two dogs slip past them through the doorway. The old man shut the door, bolting the four locks. 

"I remember you boys. You've both been up here before." The old man was busy readjusting curtains, peering out with wide eyes. "And I'm gonna tell you now; stop following this up. It's unholy. It's the Devil's work, and best leave the Devil alone."

"We need some answers, Jonathan," said Shane firmly, a tone that made it clear he wouldn't leave this room without something. "Apparently Bobby Dean came up here last night. Is that true?"

"Who?"

Shane frowned. "Bobby Dean Jamison."

"I've never met no Bobby Dean." He shook his head, still holding the shotgun by his side. "I never met none of the Jamisons. Just saw them that day they were taken."

"You know they were taken?" Ryan looked at him expectantly. "Do you know who took them?"

Jonathan swallowed, sparing a paranoid glance at the window. "I knew Niki Shenold, the woman who got- who got done in. She was suspicious of them. Of the cult. She was a part of it, she didn't want to be. I see them a lot. I see them around the woods, always with those four crazies. Niki came to me, she told me about them. The Four Horsemen, she kept calling them. She said the Jamisons, the mother, got a Satanic bible as a joke or something, but the husband got too involved. He tried summoning something, and after that the Jamisons started telling everyone they had ghosts. Their lights would turn on and off, they'd hear scratching, voices, taps being turned on and off. So they went to this woman, the _mambo asogwe_ , she lives-"

"Bloody Mary, we know her. But why ghosts?" Ryan ignored the skeptical raised eyebrow from his coworker. "What did they try to summon?"

"Mary said demons." The old man lowered his voice, clearly petrified. "They had a gathering in their home. The Jamisons. But some of them, some of them brought their children. Nutjobs, the lot of them. Brought their little kids along, and after that night the ghosts vanished. But so did the kids. The parents hid them away, took them out of school, took them out of the public in general. Then the parents disappeared, and now their kids are back."

Shane still looked highly dubious of the tale being told. "So are you trying to say the ghosts possessed the children?"

"And you don't believe him?" asked Ryan, earning a grateful smile from Jonathan. "What spirits did they try to summon? Do you know?"

"Ryan." Shane lowered his voice so that only his coworker could hear. "This is insane. It's not true. Don't encourage him."

"Well, what were the Four Horsemen again?" 

Shane looked at him. "Conquest, War, Famine, and Death."

"And you don't think they match up even a little bit?" He shrugged. "I mean, that Susan one literally _looks_ like death. And David is crazy aggressive, right? He'd be War."

"This is stupid, Ryan. They're just mentally ill."

"I'm telling you," said Jonathan, looking from one to the other. "There's forces around here now, dark forces. I see them around my house, I had to build the fence to keep them out. Get dogs. Get a gun. It was the girl first, the pretty one, with the blue eyes. She'd knock on my door, late, asking to come in and talk to me. Then she started getting forceful, she wasn't as sweet anymore. Then one night it was the big man. I didn't open the door, I was too frightened. And he just kept banging and banging. I thought I was gonna die that night." His voice cracked at the next sentence. "And I was sleeping one night and I saw _her_. In the corner of my room, like a ghost. I thought she was just my imagination, but then she lifted her hand and pointed at me, and I swear I screamed so loud the dogs started barking. By the time I turned on the light, she was gone."

Ryan didn't need to guess who the last one was. "Can you help us? Can you give us anything at all to help fight them?"

"Mary." He said the name eagerly. "Bloody Mary, she's a powerful woman. The town ridicules her, but she's been keeping the Horsemen within. They can't leave this town, she has the markings up. But they're doing something out on the hills."

"Which hill?" asked Shane, watching his face for any signs of a lie. "Which direction?"

"The one furthest to the west. I see fires on it, late at night." He raised his hands for emphasis. "Big ones. Pyres."

"And-"

"I can't talk no more." He peered around the curtain again, eyes wide. "I need to pretend to kick you out. Play along. Please, play along."

* * *

They sat in the car for a long while in the dark, in silence. Simply processing the information that had been thrown over them like a bucket of ice water. Banjo still seemed alert, standing on the back seat, looking out one window, then crossing to the opposite one, then back again. Ryan spared a look at the dark woods around them, the trees shrouded with shadows, hiding who knows what devious activities. It was not a nice thought, knowing that they were about to drive through such trees, all the way to the west hill in the distance. There didn't seem to be any fires occurring, so they assumed it wasn't being used tonight. But still, Ryan was anxious. He glanced at Shane, frowning at his hands.

"You're bleeding!" Ryan picked up one of his hands, looking at the scraped skin, the dried blood. "When the hell did that happen?"

"Fence, I guess." He closed the fingers on both hands, wincing slightly at the sting. "Yeah, climbing the fence. Woops."

Ryan nodded slowly, swallowing. "Thanks. For doing that."

"Hm?"

"For trying to help me."

"Ryan, I think we're past all that by now." 

He raised an eyebrow. "Past what?"

"Pretending to not like each other." He squinted at his hand as he tried to pick out a splinter. "Also, did you notice how those dogs were basically me and you in dog form?"

"I-" Ryan sat back in his seat, sighing, lips pressed together to try and hide his smile. "Yeah. Yeah, maybe."

"That dog was huge, man. Powerful. And the other one? So tiny."

"Shut up, Shane." 

Shane grinned at him, glancing up to meet his gaze. And they stayed staring, smiles slipping, as they realized just how much they actually did like each other. A lot. A dangerous amount. They moved simultaneously, lips pressing together in a long, slow kiss. Ryan held the other man's face in his hands, and his fear at the situation unfolding around them was suddenly gone. Just for a moment. Then they broke off, staying close, eyes still closed.

"I don't want you to come with me," said Shane quietly, so quietly it was only audible because they were so close. "I want you to go back to the station. I'll go by myself."

"No."

"If anything happened to you I'd-"

"Shane, I said no. I'm coming with you." He looked straight into Shane's eyes, and for the first time ever, he saw a fear in them. "It's either we both go or neither of us go. And I'm not changing my mind on that."

"You're one stubborn son of a bitch, Ryan Bergara."

"Yeah. I am." He took his hands from Shane's face, sitting back in his seat. He could still feel his coworker looking at him, one hand on the steering wheel. "So are we gonna go?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah." Shane tore his eyes away, starting the car, the lights flooding the trees in front of them, keeping the darkness at bay. "Yeah. Let's do this."

* * *

_Jess watched the car pull away, further down the hill, its headlights cutting through the dark. She could almost sense David's eagerness to get down to the house, to kill. He was always eager to do that. But she knew that's not always how to win a battle. It never had been. There were better, smarter ways to conquer, to win. Appeal to the humane side of a person, try and manipulate them into acting. She'd been so close with the cop, the shorter one. The believer. They needed a believer's blood, that was the problem. And he believed, he really did. In spirits, in the occult, in the spiritual world. His blood was invaluable. They'd almost got him that night, outside his apartment, until the tall one showed up. The adulterer. He had to die. He was proving to be a major bump in the road. First turning up at the apartment, then staying there all night, and he'd even caused the short one to rebuff her advances. And unfortunately for the two cops, sometimes Conquest just can't be successful without War._

_"Can I go now?" he asked, tearing his eyes away from the house to look at her. "I'll leave his head outside the tall one's apartment. As a warning."_

_"No." She shook her head, turning away from the house. "You're going to follow them. Take the believer."_

_He smiled a dark smile. "And kill the other one."_

_"Enough with the killing, Dave." She rolled her eyes. "You're just making us look suspicious. We can't keep covering up your messes. Not while we're still so feeble."_

_"Speak for yourselves." He pulled up the hood of his jacket, vanishing into the woods. "I'll try not to kill. But if my hand is forced..."_

_"Then at least get rid of the body this time."_

_She turned to Hector, fiddling with his various stolen medicines on the bonnet of the car. He was close, he kept telling them. A virus, he called it. A virus like nothing history had ever seen. Technology had advanced so much, he could do things he'd never have expected he'd be able to do. All they needed was to get out of this town. Break through the barriers, into the outside world, and be set free. She'd watched the news last night, though. Maybe the world didn't need anyone else to destroy it._ _It seemed to be doing it to itself. Destroying nature, killing each other, abandoning their poorest. Yes, humanity deserves to die. That was one thing she had always been certain of, all the millennia she'd be alive._

_"Where's Susan?"_

_Hector glanced up. "Oh, apparently some of the cops wanted to search her house. She said yeah."_

_"Right. She better have hidden all her weird shit."_

_"Yeah. Hopefully."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is gonna be up tomorrow because honestly I'M SO EXCITED TO WRITE IT so yea you won't have to wait that long


	14. Mambo Asogwe

The woods over on these hills were untouched. Left for nature to blossom, to be at peace. Apart from the random piles of scorched wood that dotted the frequent clearings, the grass burnt and dead around them. Shane left the headlights of the car on, taking his torch with him just in case. The wilderness is big. One step to the side and you're on a totally different trajectory.

"Can you hear that?" Ryan stayed crouched beside one of the pyres, turning his head to look up at Shane. "I can hear water. There's a river nearby, dude."

"And?"

"Rivers are meant to be spiritual. Like a boundary between worlds or something."

"I've had it with the spirit stuff, Ryan." He shook his head, turning away to continue snooping around the various pyres. They looked like they went on for a good while, dotted here and there until they vanished into the dark. "That guy was just loopy from living alone on a mountain for so long. I mean, come on. They're not possessed."

"But what if they are?" Ryan straightened up, wishing Shane would stop wandering so far. "What do we do?"

"I don't know about you, but they looked pretty human to me. And last time I checked, humans die pretty easily, man."

"So we _kill_ them?"

"No, Ryan!" He rolled his eyes, turning back to face the shorter man, the headlights making him 99% silhouette. "Because they're not- God, I'm done with this conversation."

"But what if-"

"Done, Ryan!"

"Yeah but what happens if-"

"Finito!" 

Ryan sighed sharply, hands on his hips. "Whatever, dude. I know when someone's lying, and that man wasn't lying."

Shane was busy following the dog along a small trail of mushrooms, which seemed to lead in a large circle. "Hey. Hey, I think there could be something here."

"Hm? Like what?"

"Bodies." He stepped back out of the circle, noticing the deep green of the grass within the mushrooms. Banjo seemed very fixated with it, snuffling determinedly. "Yeah, man. There's some remains under here. I mean, look at that."

"Hold on, I'm coming. I-"

There was a dull thunk as the headlights turned off, plunging the woods in blackness. Shane immediately switched on his torch, wishing the beam of light was a hell of a lot bigger. 

"Ryan, did you-"

"Shane?" He could hear Ryan somewhere close by, the forest floor crunching and snapping. "Shane, shine your torch around. Now."

The urgency in his voice confirmed Shane's worst fear. He began moving towards the sound of footsteps, promptly deciding to never, ever come back to the woods at night. 

"Oh, there you are." Ryan's voice sounded tense, frightened. "Why'd you turn your torch off, dude? You have your gun?"

"Ryan." Shane turned, shining his torch along the looming trees. He felt hot and cold, prickly all over. "Ryan, that's not me."

* * *

It was understandable that he would've mistaken the tall, shadowy figure to be his coworker. But at the sound of Shane's voice still a few meters away, he realized he was most definitely wrong. He began backing away as the figure continued coming towards him.

"Shane!" He stumbled slightly over a root, pretty sure he was going to vomit his heart was beating so wildly. "SHANE!"

He ducked under the first swipe, hearing Shane's panicked voice getting closer, but still too far. A hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking him back against his attacker, feeling an arm fix around his neck with enough force to pull him off the ground for a moment. He struggled furiously, kicking out, legs pedalling in the air as he fought to breathe. He didn't need to guess who it was. He could feel the grizzly beard against his head.

The light from Shane's torch finally appeared through the trees, in the distance, going the wrong way. Ryan fought to cry out, to scream, David quite easily beginning to drag him away. Ryan scrabbled in his pocket, his hand closing around the small can of mace.

"AaaaAAAAH!" David took his hand from Ryan's hair to rub at his burning eyes, but surprisingly kept his arm firm around his neck. "You little fucker! Now you're gonna get it."

Shane had reappeared at the shout, torch flashing wildly. "Ryan, where are you? Ryan!"

Ryan saw the glint of the kitchen knife in the distant torchlight, just for a fleeting second. Reflexively, he grabbed hold of it before it could meet his throat, gritting his teeth as the metal bit into his hands, feeling the warm blood dripping. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to draw breath, the blade sliding along the edge of his hand, down along his forearm. The pain was astounding, but he still couldn't breathe, couldn't scream but for a hoarse call of Shane's name. 

Then he was suddenly on his side on the forest floor, bloodied hands held out in front of him as he drew as big a breath as he could. He could hear the furious struggle going on behind him, Shane and David rolling into view, locked together as they fought for the knife.

"Car!" Shane's shouts were just audible over the blood pumping in his ears. "My gun's in the car!"

Ryan nodded, still dazed as he staggered to his feet. Where was the car? _Where was the car?_ The adrenaline was beginning to fizzle out, leaving him very aware of the blazing pain in his hands, his arm. He froze as he heard Shane give a pained shout, picking up the pace without quite looking where he was going. And it turned out he was right about there being a river nearby. Well, not quite a river, but a stream. He landed on his hands and knees in it, slipping on the underlying mud as he tried to get up. Another cry from his coworker, sounding so far away. He had to keep going. He had to. His hands left smeared marks along the rocks as he pulled himself up the small bank, glancing around the shadows with wide eyes. He had no idea where he was. He started as something flew past through the undergrowth, slipping back and into the icy water again. This was a nightmare. This was a literal nightmare.

* * *

Shane kicked out, struggling furiously underneath the taller man, his cry for help cut off by a pair of hands around his throat. He grabbed at David’s face, shoving a thumb into his eye, wrenching the guy’s head aside. The crushing grip on his throat loosened enough for Shane to draw a shuddering breath. Then it was back again, painfully tight, keeping him pinned to the ground as he twisted and turned under David’s weight.

“Your little friend is gonna get fried,” snarled David through bared teeth, which was probably meant to be some sort of smile. “I want you to know that. Before I kill ya.”

Shane clawed at the hands around his neck, hard enough to draw blood, not taking his eyes from the David’s. His chest rose and fell erratically as he fought to breathe.

“I’ll tell you what they’re gonna do to him, yeah?” David leaned down, face inches from Shane’s. “They’re gonna build a pyre to the Above, and they’re gonna roast him, just like they did Sherilyn and Bobby.”

Shane managed to get out a furious shout, still tearing at the hands holding him down, the sticks and stones digging into his back as he writhed from side-to-side. David moved with him, straddling him, as Shane pushed backwards along the ground.

“And I’ll tell ya, Hector isn’t too big into his anesthetics.”

“I’ll… kill you.” The words were choked, but unmistakably sincere, Shane’s teeth gritted as he spoke. “Don’t…  _touch_ him I’ll… I’ll-” He didn’t even see the slap coming, hard enough to snap his head to one side.

“You won’t do shit, pal.” David seemed to have tired of the tormenting, leaning forwards as his grip constricted again, Shane squeezing his eyes shut as he tried desperately to draw even one breath. “Because you’ll be dead. And then your friend will-”

The bark came before the bite. Or, more accurately, the snarl came before the snap. Banjo threw himself at David, teeth closing around his throat, carrying him off Shane in one leap. Shane rolled onto his side, sucking in lungfuls of air as his hand scrabbled for the torch lying a few feet away. He could hear the teeth clashing as Banjo continued barking angrily, snarling, growling viciously. _Ryan hadn't come back_. This was the one thought that flew around Shane's head, making him feel physically ill. He was pretty sure he could feel the bile rising in his sore throat. He rolled onto his back again, shining the torch at where he could hear Banjo. The dog was alone, staring into the trees, hackles raised as he continued growling.

"Banjo." Shane pushed himself to his feet, stumbling against a tree as he tried to steady himself. "Ryan. Find Ryan."

And they did. After a terrifying game of Marco Polo, they found him, walking in a wavering line beside the small stream, rivulets of dark blood running down his arms. Shane drew him into a desperately tight embrace, eyes closed as he rested his head on Ryan's, taking just a minute to breathe. They couldn't hang around, not with the possibility of David still lurking. Banjo's mouth was stained a light pink, but it didn't look thoroughly bloody. Not enough to have caused real harm. So Shane half-carried the shorter man back to the car, torch in his free hand, slicing through the dark. He'd never been so utterly terrified in his life. At any second, the torch could land on David, coming at them through the trees, and then what would they do? Die, he supposed.

They had to get back to town, and quick. To the nearest place of refuge. A place that was always comfortable, owned by a woman who would hopefully know why these pyres were here. And what they were being used for.

* * *

Bloody Mary opened the door as Shane struggled to get Ryan up the driveway. The shorter man looked pale, his arms still streaked with blood, an alarming amount. And he felt cold. Shane could feel it through the guy's damp shirt.

"What happened?" she asked, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

"We were out on the hills," he panted, half-dragging Ryan in through the doorway. It still hurt to speak, the feeling of David's hands around his neck still somewhat there. "We can't go to the hospital. One of them works there."

"One of who?"

"The cult. We-"

"Did they follow you?" Bloody Mary disappeared into the sitting room, coming back with an armful of seemingly random objects. "I need to know."

"I- Maybe. I'm not sure."

She knelt in front of the open door, beginning to draw out a geometric pattern with purposeful movements. The chalk scratched over the wood. Shane stumbled as Ryan suddenly dropped to his knees, his breath trembling he was so cold, so damp. The man’s hands left bloody streaks across the floor. Without hesitating, Shane fell down beside him, pulling him close against him, as close as he could manage. He determinedly rubbed his hands up and down Ryan’s arms, feeling the shivering beginning to subside, the shorter man’s breaths hot against his neck, growing steadier as he began to relax against him.

"What are you doing?" asked Shane, wishing she'd close the door and help him. "I need-"

"This is a _vèvè_ ," came Mary's voice, the only time it had ever sounded panicked. "The symbol for the Guardians of the Crossroads. I'm inviting the spirits in, to protect us, to keep us safe."

Shane stared at her, mouth hanging open in irritated disbelief. He heard Ryan mumble drowsily, pushing closer against the warmth of Shane.

Bloody Mary lit up the wax candle beside her, placing it in the center of the symbol. "Spirits of fire, we welcome you." A splash of water. "Spirits of water, spirits of air." She took a handful of dirt from the bowl beside her, sprinkling it around the candle. "Spirits of earth, we request you. We give offerings, in the hopes that you will fend off the evil outside." She drizzled some liquor across the doorway. "I, Bloody Mary, voodoo queen..." Her voice trailed off into a low murmur before she suddenly knocked three times in a triangle formation, slapping her hand down in the center. Shane almost wanted to do the same thing to her head.

Banjo's growling was what caught their attention, turning their heads to see what he was looking at. She stood at the end of the driveway, staring at them. Unblinking. Bloody Mary got to her feet, raising a hand into the air.

"Papa Legba resides here," she called. "Come no further, or be it upon your head, demon!"

The woman came up the driveway, her hooded black cloak floating around her, like it was made of shadows. She came up the wooden steps. Shane kept Ryan close against him, expecting Susan to just wander up and through the door. But surprisingly, she didn't. She looked down at the large symbol in chalk, the candle, the dirt, the splashes of liquid. She almost looked annoyed, the most expression he'd ever seen on her face.

"Those men belong to me," she said, icy cold. "I've claimed them for my own, witch."

Bloody Mary shook her head. "You can't enter. You can't have them."

"I will have them." She spat at the symbol, and Shane watched with horrified eyes as the spit began to bubble, sizzle like oil on a hot pan. "And I will have you, _mambo asogwe_."

She receded back down the driveway, without even looking back, crossing the road into the woods. Bloody Mary watched her leave, even after she'd vanished into the trees. She moved the candle aside, closing the door over.

“You boys stay here,” said Bloody Mary, already disappearing down the candlelit hall. “I’ll be right back.”

Ryan lay against the taller man, still feeling the deep chill in him, his clothes stuck to him. He’d never been so cold in his entire life. He heard a kettle boiling, and then Bloody Mary reappeared, a bundle of blankets in hand. No, not blankets. Dry clothes.

“Get changed,” she said, sternly, but it was the kind sort of stern. The caring one. “Come on, quick. You’ll just get cold again in those clothes, and my son doesn’t need these anymore.”

“He’ll be cold in just a t-shirt,” said Shane almost reproachfully, pulling his shirt down under his jumper before taking said jumper off over his head. “This is better. Hey, Ryan, buddy. You’re good, alright? You’re good.”

Half an hour later, Ryan was on the soft couch in the sitting room, a softer blue jumper on, and a mug of hot tea in his hands. He was downing it like a drug, feeling himself physically unwinding as the cold left bit by bit. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting, defrosting, his teeth clenched to try and stop them from chattering. Bloody Mary had fed them, offered them her home as a safe space, and made a very odd concoction in lieu of painkillers for Ryan. He looked at the stitches along his arm, wondering if there was anything Bloody Mary _couldn't_ do.

“You okay?” Shane crouched down in front of him, looking more openly concerned than he’d ever seen him. “You alright, Ry? Are you still cold?”

“No, no.” The blatant worry in Shane’s eyes was even more warming than the tea was. “I’m good. I’m- Ow, careful, dude!”

Shane had pulled his hand forwards, examining the long, dried-up cut along the palm. “Is this sore? Do you need to go-”

“It's just a little cut, Shane.”

“It’s not little, Ryan! It’s pretty deep.” He got back to his feet, disappearing back into the kitchen. A murmured conversation with the homeowner, and he reappeared with a first aid kit. “They need to be bandaged, man. At least let me do that much.”

Ryan stared for a long moment before nodding, putting down the mug. The disinfectant stung like a motherfucker, making his eyes water as he squeezed them shut. Yet he stayed silent, letting Shane bandage up the throbbing cuts, gently but firmly. He stayed silent simply because he didn’t want to ruin the moment. When Shane finished the second hand, he held it in both his own, resting his forehead against them.

“Fuck it.” His words were quiet, slow. “I care. I care about you, Ryan. So fucking much.”

Ryan was stunned for a moment, certain his heart skipped ten beats. “…I care about you too.”

“You don’t under-" He paused, taking a deep breath. "I would do anything.” He lifted his gaze to fix on Ryan’s, still holding his hand. Not too tightly. “God, I’d do anything. To make sure you’re safe.”

Ryan nodded in response. He was too choked up to say anything back. He didn’t take his eyes from Shane’s face as his coworker double-checked the bandages, tucking the ends a bit more firmly into place. A slight sting made Ryan inhale sharply, biting down on his lip to shut himself up.

“Is it sore?” Shane glanced back up at him. “Did I hurt you?”

“It’s okay!” Ryan closed the hand in question around Shane’s, holding it tightly despite the dull throbbing from his cut. “It’s okay. I promise.”

Shane looked up into his eyes, averting his gaze after a few long seconds. He cleared his throat. “Good. That’s good.”

“Thank you, Shane.” Ryan kept hold of the hand. He felt soft. He felt a softness for his coworker that he wouldn’t have expected in a thousand years. “Really. I mean it.”

“I just…” Shane’s voice trailed off as he looked back up at him, his mouth closing as he swallowed. “It’s fine. It’s no problem.” After a very gentle squeeze, Shane took his hand from Ryan’s, straightening up. “There's only one spare bed. You can have it. I think you need it more.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Ryan sipped his tea, pressing his lips together. “I think I'll stay up for a bit. I don't think I'll be able to sleep much anyway."

"Me neither." He sat down beside him, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Silent. "What have we gotten ourselves into, Ryan."

"I don't know. Spooky shit."

Shane gave a quiet laugh. "Yeah. Some real spooky shit."

"Not that you believe that," said Ryan with raised eyebrows, taking a sip of his tea.

"I do."

Ryan stared at him, mug almost to his mouth. "Wait, what?!"

"There's something up, Ryan! Susan spat on that symbol thing and it sizzled!" He rubbed a hand over his mouth as he stared at the rug on the floor. "I don't think physics works like that. Or biology. Or chemistry."

Ryan lowered his mug, watching Shane's face for any hint that this was just a wind-up. "Are you serious?"

"I think- I think they might actually be possessed. Or something."

"Or something?"

"Don't start pushing me, Ryan. It's already making me feel sick to even think that all that shit is real. I mean, why did you think I didn't want to ring the station?"

Ryan tried to hide his smile. He knew he shouldn't be smiling at the situation, but it was just funny. To hear Shane admit that something even remotely supernatural could be real. Shane gave him a flat look in response.

"Ryan, stop."

"I'm not doing anything!"

"You're _smiling_." Shane playfully poked him in the cheek, seeing the wide smile finally appear fully. "You're ridiculing me."

"Only a little bit."

"Don't! I saved your life, man!"

Ryan looked at him for a long moment, his grin slipping as he realized that this was actually true. "You ever thought you'd do that?"

Shane laughed, shaking his head. "No. No, never."

He stopped laughing as Ryan laid a bandaged hand on his leg, soft. He met the shorter man's gaze, swallowing.

"Thank you, Shane. I mean it."

"It's okay."

Ryan leaned forwards, feeling Shane's breath ghosting against his lips as he paused to swallow. Shane moved forwards first, kissing him gently. Lovingly. He raised a hand to rest against Ryan's face, brushing his thumb along his cheek, just to make sure that he was really still there. That he wasn't dreaming. Or dead.

"More tea?" came Bloody Mary's voice from the kitchen. "I got camomile. Help you sleep."

"I think we're good," replied Shane, sitting back. "Thanks."

"I'm gonna go to bed," said Ryan quietly, getting to his feet.

Shane nodded, watching his coworker step over the sleeping Banjo on the rug. "Probably a good idea."

"Which way is it?”

“Just through the door next to the kitchen.”

Ryan lingered in the doorway, pulling the jumper sleeves down over his hands; they were still a tad chilly, even with the warmth of the tea through the mug. “Could you… Could you show me?”

Shane looked at him. The directions weren’t  _that_  complicated. He eventually gave a silent nod.

He remained in the doorway as Ryan moved into the bedroom, dimly lit by the single lamp in the corner. The walls were covered in patterned rugs, drapes, oranges and reds and golden-yellow hues. Ryan still had the almost-empty mug of tea in hand. He didn't sit. Shane placed a hand on the door handle, but he didn’t close it. He couldn’t. Not yet. He needed to be certain before he left. He needed to be certain that Ryan was safe. Shane bit down hard on his lip, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Goodnight, Ryan.”

The shorter man looked at him, gripping the mug tightly. “If you- you can…” He swallowed, wondering why he felt so nervous all of a sudden. “…You can stay. If you want.”

After a pause, Shane stepped into the room. Hesitantly, but not reluctantly. “I was, uh, I was just gonna stay on the couch. Thought maybe you’d like the bed.”

“I’d like you to stay.” God, why did he feel so flustered? “With me. In the bed.”

Another pause. Shane shut the door over, quietly. He moved to stand in front of the shorter man, gently taking the mug from his bandaged hand, placing it on the bedside table. He didn’t know what to say. For once in his life, he just couldn’t find the words. Perhaps he didn’t need any words. Ryan began unbuttoning the taller man’s shirt, slowly to prevent any unnecessary pain in his hands, his heart thumping. Shane watched his face, struggling to keep his own breathing steady. Why the hell did he feel nervous? He softly cupped Ryan’s face, tilting his head back to look him in the eye. And God, he hadn’t realized the true meaning of having butterflies until right now. He could barely breathe.

He leaned down, pressing a deep kiss to the shorter man’s lips, feeling Ryan’s eyelashes against his face, fluttering closed. They held each other close, Ryan very grateful for the heat from the taller man’s body pressed against him. He kept a hand on the back of Shane’s neck as he sat on the bed, lying back on it, bringing the taller man with him. Their mouths met again, working together, slow, deep. Meaningful.

Shane broke off, keeping close, his gaze lowered. He'd wanted this for a long, long time, yet now that it was happening he was weirdly anxious. Probably because he'd never expected to feel the way he currently did. He'd never expected to feel anything, really. He slipped his fingers under Ryan’s jumper - well,  _his_  jumper, technically - beginning to pull it up before pausing. What if the guy was too tired? That was another thing he’d never expected to care about. Whether or not he’d be too rough.

He looked into Ryan’s eyes, searching, his voice quiet. “Are you sure?”

Ryan held his soft gaze for a long moment before giving a small nod, heart fluttering in his chest.

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

* * *

_"We can't go in."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Papa Legba."_

_"That jackass." Jess sighed wearily, stubbing out her cigarette. "I'm getting tired of this playing around, Suze. We should stake out the believer's apartment. Just take him."_

_Susan nodded. Then she receded back into her mind, sitting on the boulder, which wasn't half as cold as she always was. She could hear David muttering curses just a few feet away as Hector finished cleaning up the teeth marks left by the dog._

_"And what the hell did you do to the guy, David?" Jess scowled down at him, already lighting up another cigarette. She was stressed, and humans did this when they were stressed. Even though it was bad for them. "Unless he cut his own hands open?"_

_"He sprayed some stinging stuff into my damn eyes." He glared a red-eyed glare at her. "I got mad."_

_"If you'd killed him, we would've been screwed."_

_"He didn't manage to kill either of them." Hector raised an eyebrow. Well, the bald spot that should've held an eyebrow. "You're slipping up, David."_

_He exhaled sharply, turning his head away. "I still have time."_

_"We've had a hell of a lot of time. And we've just spent it hanging around," said Jess irritably. "Twenty-five years stuck like this. I'm gonna go insane."_

_"Then tell us what your plan is, Jess." Hector looked at her expectantly. "Tell us how to win."_

_She glowered at him. "Things are different now. It's not as easy as back then."_

_"You caused two world wars, woman!"_

_"This isn't as easy!" she insisted. "Those two are fucking friends or something. Churchill and Hitler didn't-"_

_"They're more." Susan finally turned her head to look at the bickering bunch. "They're more than friends."_

_"And you know this how?"_

_"By seeing. With my eyes."_

_David turned with a large grin. "Did she just make a joke?"_

_"Yes." She looked at him. "Funny?"_

_"Funny."_

_Jess threw a flat look at them. "It wasn't funny when those cops found your damn shrine, Susan."_

_"I forgot about it."_

_"They won't think much of it," shrugged Hector, putting away his first aid kit into the boot of the car. "They think she's a creep anyway. It'd be more suspicious if any of us got caught with a straight-up shrine to Lucifer in our bedrooms."_

_"It'll be fine," interrupted David, getting to his feet to join them in watching the street. "Tomorrow."_

_"Before the day is done," nodded Susan, not taking her eyes from the house. She could see the voodoo spirits in the air around the house, looking and feeling like waves of heat. "He'll be ours."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/aBlKPLeLU_s
> 
> song that made me feel soft enough to write the scenes between shane and ryan because if you've read my other fics you'll know that nice relationships aren't my specialty lolll so yeah I just felt like I should credit it


	15. The Thing To Fear In The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's gets a teeny bit violent at the end, not gory, but graphic, i guess?? just a heads up

_Sometimes he still heard him. They all did. The children. Well, the adults now, technically. Crying inside to be let out. The crying was irritating, but the worst had been when they'd killed the parents. That had been screaming. For days on end. They’d all almost been pushed out, but they’d managed. After that, the owners of the bodies had gone mostly silent. This was a relief, especially to David. He'd always been quick to anger, to rage. It was part of his job, for God's sake. He was War. But even if he lost, he always won._

_He'd never minded Famine. Famine kept to himself, mixing up this and that to kill plants or whatever. Conquest was okay. She was a bit difficult to work with, always insisting that killing and conflict weren’t always the way to win. And most of the time, she was right. But it was Death who he loved. He had always been in love with her, they’d always been in love with each other. Always. Not a romantic, mushy type of love. But War and Death walked hand-in-hand, always and forever. Conquest would change her methods. Famine would change his methods. The changing of time and the passing of history forced them to. But War and Death had never changed. Never had to. It was still the same as it had been thousands of years ago. Mankind would go through a bout of violence, and kill each other for a bit, and then learn some valuable life lessons or whatever. Fast-forward a hundred years or so, and simply press replay. War always resulted in Death, and sometimes Death resulted in War. Ever since humans had fashioned the first weapon, War had been there. And for a few centuries, it was just him and Death. Death was ancient, eternal even compared to him. But he loved her, and she loved him. They, essentially, completed each other._

_"I almost had him last time," he insisted, gripping the steering wheel tight as he remembered the feeling of his hands around that idiot cop's neck. The scratches he'd received were still on his skin. "Really, I did. It was the damn wolf. Or dog, or whatever people call them nowadays."_

_"I've heard 'puppy'. I think it means a child dog." She frowned slightly, white eyebrows knitted. "Although many seem to call their adult dog 'puppy'. It's confusing."_

_"So much confusing shit. I mean, people are allowed sleep with their own gender now. They just do it."_

_"But we've all done it."_

_"Yeah, yeah, but the law allows it now. Some places." He paused. "Do we have genders?"_

_She opened her mouth to speak, closing it as she thought the question over. "Right now we do."_

_"But in general."_

_"I guess not. We're just entities."_

_"I like being in a body," he replied, voice light as he cruised down the road again, watching the house. "Can't kill people when you're an entity. Can't feel it properly, y'know? Can't get frisky either. This blonde cop, she called me up the other night, and I think I might-"_

_"I don't like it." Susan preferred when she was just floating around, everywhere at once, breathing death to those whose time was up. "It's more difficult for me."_

_"Oh yeah." He shrugged. "That sucks. But it's even more difficult for Jess. She can't just whisper dreams into peoples' ears anymore, drive them loopy like she did with that Adolf guy. She has to think more."_

_"Yes." She rolled down the window slightly, letting the cool air play with the loose strands of hair around her face. "It's becoming cold out. Winter."_

_"I didn't know you felt the cold."_

_"I can smell it."_

_He frowned at her. "You're gonna have to stop saying weird shit like that, Suze. For real."_

_"Oh. Sorry."_

* * *

"They just passed by again." Ryan squinted at the black car as it moved further down the road. He could feel Shane right behind him, peering over his head. "They're not going anywhere."

"You might have to do a bit of climbing out the back garden." Bloody Mary placed two glasses of some green, thick liquid beside their bowls of cereal. "Sneak out. And as I said, stay in public places. They're in human bodies, so they're susceptible to society's norms."

"In human bodies." Shane shook his head, biting on his thumb as he watched the car turn at the end of the road, heading back up. "A sentence I never thought I'd take seriously."

"What's this?" Ryan narrowed his eyes into the glass of green. "Some medicine thing?"

"Smoothie," replied Bloody Mary.

"Oh. Okay."

They sat back down at the table, in the house that felt safer to them than any other place could right now. Mary sat across from them, slipping a piece of toast to Banjo under the table. And Shane and Ryan snuck glimpses of each other, both wondering if they were thinking about the same thing. Which they were.

“I see the dog had the couch to himself.”

Shane and Ryan paused mid-chew, giving each other sidelong glances before looking up at Bloody Mary. She gave them a knowing smile, buttering more toast.

“You busied yourselves elsewhere?”

Ryan cleared his throat, readjusting his seating. “We, uh, just… shared. The bed. Comfort?”

“It sure sounded like a hell of a lot of comfort,” she said wryly, pointing at them with her toast. “From the both of you.”

Shane finally swallowed his mouthful of cereal, avoiding her eyes. “Sorry. I- We didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s okay.” She pulled a face. “Well, it was a bit weird, but this house is a place of love, I like to think. Good energy. And you two need each other now more than ever. I said as much to you before, remember?”

A place of love.  _Love_. Ryan was beginning to think he may be starting to understand the word. Just a little. The feelings he was currently feeling weren’t exactly love, but they were most definitely not just amicable. And little did he know that Shane was also trying to process similar feelings.  _Feelings_. The one thing neither of them had expected to be involved in their inevitable intercourse. Not only had it been physically intense, but emotionally as well, truly charged with it. And the fiery passion that had decided it wanted to be included? Evident in every hard kiss, every desperate touch, every attempt at stifling a moan in case Bloody Mary would hear. She clearly had, unfortunately. They’d kind of given up on trying to be quiet pretty quickly. Until afterwards, when they’d simply laid in stunned silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being their heavy breaths.

“Sorry if we woke you,” said Ryan sheepishly, picking the flakes of paint from the bed frame off his bandages. “Really. You saved us last night. We should’ve been more respectful.”

“Don’t worry, boys. Really.” She gave them both a serious look. “But we do need to talk. About the cult."

The two cops jumped at the opportunity to change the subject, nodding eagerly.

"Who's in it?" asked Shane, looking at her expectantly. "What do you know about it?"

"I'll tell you everything I know." She paused. "Which might be a bit more than you expect. And I'll let you know why I haven't told you. At the end."

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Shane and Ryan watched in expectant silence. They wanted her to say whatever she was thinking, but they didn't want to pressure her into talking. She'd literally saved their lives, provided them with food and shelter, all without asking for anything in return. Shane regretted ever thinking she was just a con-artist.

"I've known about the cult," she began, placing her plate of toast on the ground for Banjo. It appeared she'd lost her appetite. "Since before it even was a cult. It started off as a drug cartel. Relax, it's not one anymore. But for years it was. Every major business owner in town was in on it. A few extra dollars in everyone's pocket. Run by Bobby Dean Jamison, nonetheless."

"The father?" Ryan frowned. "Why him?"

"He'd always been a bit cracked. Prostitution, gambling, you name it. He seemed like the type of guy who wasn't scared, who didn't care, no matter how much things would get out of hand." Mary took a sip of tea before continuing, her eyes on the table as she remembered. "He used the whole cult thing as a distraction for you guys, really. People would get hooked on the fact they were a cult, excuse their odd behavior, and let the drug dealing just pass on by. It was a smart distraction. Until it wasn't anymore."

Shane pushed his cereal aside, riveted. "But what about the Jamisons? Sherilyn, Bobby Dale, the daughter? How did they get roped in?"

"Oh, voluntarily, at first." She shrugged. "They'd do some dealings, then Bobby Dean would pay them for their troubles. But the family had always been scammers, and greedy, and they wanted more than what they were getting. So they went to you guys with this little report over a business dispute. Ah, that rings a bell, does it? It was a warning, really. From Bobby Dale to Bobby Dean. 'Give us more money, or we will reveal everything to the cops'."

"So Bobby Dean killed them?"

"Oh, no. Bobby Dean paid up." She raised her eyebrows. "$32,000 in cash. Cold hard cash."

"Holy fuck," breathed Ryan, sharing a wide-eyed look with his coworker. "The cash in the car. They must've been ready to haul ass out of this place once they got the cash."

"Precisely," said Bloody Mary, giving a confirming nod. "They were scared. They were all cool with the drug dealing, but the cult part began to grow. Dark stuff, black magic. The Four Horsemen. They started taking over, they took it ten times more seriously than Bobby Dean ever had. It got too serious, with all the rituals, all the sacrifices. People going missing. The Jamisons were frightened, so they got their money and tried to scarper. Packed everything up and ran. But they didn't make it, as you well know."

"Why didn't you tell us any of this before?" asked Shane, seeming a tiny bit irritated. "This is the answer to literally everything we wanted to know."

"Because- Because-" She closed her eyes, lips pressed together. "I had three children. Andy, Brian... and Susan."

The quiet went on for a long moment. Ryan swallowed, keeping his voice gentle.

"Is Bloody Mary a stage name?"

"I... No. My name is Mary. But it wasn't always" She took a deep breath, straightening up. "My name was Samantha Cooper. And Susan is my daughter. She _was_ my daughter. Before... all this. I left her with a friend one night, just for an evening, and the bitch brought my daughter to the Jamisons' house for whatever crazy ritual. And after that she wasn't Susan anymore. But it was so long ago, she doesn't even know me. She doesn't recognize me, because of whatever's inside her. But that's why I didn't tell you." 

Ryan and Shane waited for her to continue. They didn't know what to say. If they even should say anything.

"I saw that the Reiners had gone missing. And the Smyth woman. And then Lombard." Mary kept her eyes lowered, her face blank. "So I knew I was next. I dyed my hair, I changed my name, I moved house. And I'm still here. So I never told anyone what I knew, because even though she's not my Suzie anymore, she still looks like her. Sounds like her. It's hard."

"I'm so sorry," said Ryan, placing a hand on hers. "That's terrible. We had no idea."

Shane cleared his throat before asking the question on his mind. "Did you ever try anything? Exorcisms? Do those work?"

"Unfortunately not in this case. They've been possessed for so long, I'd be afraid of what would happen to the bodies if the demonic spirits left. The most likely result is that the body would simply die." She got to her feet, beginning to clear away the dishes. It was time for her visitors to leave. "Stay safe. And stay public, okay? Don't go anywhere alone. And don't trust anyone, either." She gave them a sad smile. "Maybe not even your friends."

* * *

They'd had to abandon Shane's car in Mary's driveway. They couldn't risk going out the front door at all. So they'd hopped over the back garden fence, flashed their badges to the alarmed neighbors seated at the outside table as they'd hurried by, and made their way to the nearest, busiest cafe. A Starbucks, chock full of students and businesspeople on their break. And zero demons. Hopefully.

"Sara said they found a shrine in Susan's," said Shane, setting the coffee down in front of Ryan. "Black candles, a bell, a ram skull. She said she was gonna write it off as insignificant, and I couldn't say shit. This sucks, Ryan."

"I know. I mean, what the fuck do we do here?" Ryan offered the cash for his coffee to Shane, feeling a nice warmness in his chest as the man shook his head dismissively at it. "Oh. Thanks. But anyway, I mean, we're just two guys. Against four literal demons."

"In human bodies," reminded Shane, taking a sip of his own coffee. "So they can still be harmed, right?"

"If only they were still a drug cartel. We could've just brought them in on that."

"Look, I know Bloody Mary said that an exorcism would probably end in the bodies dying or whatever," said Shane quietly, knowing full well that if anyone overheard their conversation they'd think they were cracked. He would've thought so too, only twenty-four hours ago. "But is that such a loss? In the grand scheme of things?"

"I don't know, dude. I mean, that's still murder, right?"

"Murdering demons, baby." He nodded at Ryan's hands, which were holding the coffee cup tightly. "How's the hands?"

"Bit sore."

"I can't believe you just grabbed the knife." He shook his head with an accompanying eye roll. "Hardcore, but stupid."

"It was a reflex!" Ryan shrugged, looking at the long line of stitches along the side of his forearm. "I've never been in a damn knife-fight, Shane."

"And he tried to take you?"

"He was dragging me away, dude. I was fucking freaking out."

Shane wasn't sure whether to mention what David had said to him. He stared into his coffee, mulling it over. It had been troubling him, so much so he'd had a straight-up nightmare about it. Death had paraded around on an ashen horse, a lit torch in hand, and Ryan was dragged up to a pyre, and Shane hadn't been able to move, to speak, to do anything. And the searing pain in his chest had stayed with him even when he woke up, pulling the sleeping Ryan closer against him. It was funny, how a few drowsy mumbles can just calm your heartbeat like a shot of morphine.

"What's up?" Ryan was staring at him, curiously. "What are you thinking about?"

"David said something to me. I think you should know." Shane swallowed, taking a deep breath before continuing. "He said they were gonna burn you. As in, sacrifice you."

Ryan went pale, searching his eyes, hoping desperately for some kind of joke to reveal itself. "Sacrifice me?"

"I don't know why. Hey, man, listen." He reached across the table, taking one of Ryan's shaking hands in his, holding it firmly. "I'd never let them do that. Never. I won't let them touch you. Ryan, look at me." He saw the fear in his coworker's eyes, pulling at his heart. "I mean it. I'd die before I'd let any of them take you."

Ryan nodded, trying to swallow the sudden lump in his throat that was making his vision blur. "I know."

"Aw. Adorable." David joined them at the table, scooching his seat in with such vigor it screeched obnoxiously. "How's it going, fellas?"

Shane gritted his teeth at the man's voice, turning his head to give him a look seething with hatred. "Fuck. Off."

"I'm not checking up on _you_ , pal." David slapped a hand on Ryan's shoulder, giving him a rougher-than-necessary shake. "I'm checking up on this guy. Your hands okay? Let's test how good the stitching is, shall we?"

Ryan yanked his arm away, pushing his seat back. "Assaulting a police officer is a crime. So. Yeah."

"What do you want," said Shane icily, wondering if he'd be able to hold himself back if David even _tried_ to touch Ryan again. "You can't do anything to us here."

"You think?"

Shane held his gaze, jaw clenched. "Yeah. I do."

"Let's go," said Ryan quickly, abandoning his coffee as he got to his feet. "Now."

"You think you can just keep running, do ya?" David grinned up at him, a snarl of a smile. "Can't handle the _heat_?"

"If you even put a finger on him again," said Shane in a low voice, so blatantly threatening that both David and Ryan turned their heads to stare at him. "So help me God I'll kill you."

The silence was unnerving, so much so that the surrounding tables were beginning to notice that something was off. The barista was giving them odd looks over the glass cabinet, marker mid-name on a cup.

Ryan moved behind him, hands on his shoulders as he gave them a soft squeeze. "Shane, come on. Let's go."

"Watch your backs," said David, unblinking, still with that predatory smile. "And I'll be seeing you very soon."

Shane got to his feet, downing his entire hot coffee in one go, not taking his eyes from David's as he placed the empty mug back down on the table. "Fuck you."

"Holy shit, dude." Ryan grinned at him as they left the cafe, looking a lot more delighted than he had the right to be. "That was such a fucking power move. How did you _do_ that?"

"My insides are on fire."

"Oh shit. Right, let's just carry on then."

* * *

They wound up at Ryan's apartment, after passing by the station first. Every single black car that passed had them panicking, even if there were other people on the street. Yet once they'd reached the station, they simply stood outside in the car lot, realizing that they couldn't just walk in looking the way they looked. Ryan's hands and arm would be a source of alarm. That and the fact he was wearing Shane's jumper, and had nothing else to swap into. Shane's own shirt was noticeably rumpled from having been worn during a few strenuous events, and he was sporting a few light bruises around his neck from David's fingers. It just wasn't exactly inconspicuous. So they got into Ryan's car, which thankfully had avoided being clamped, and headed to his apartment. His block had more residents, and it had a code to get in and out.

"Sara said that Kelsey has a date with that David guy tonight. I mean, should we tell her he's a demon?"

"She doesn't believe in that stuff, Ryan. She has no reason to."

"None of them do." Ryan emerged from the kitchen. "I told Quinta I had food poisoning."

"Do you think she bought it?"

"Yeah, I think so." Ryan peeked out the window again, not sure if the emptiness of the car lot was comforting or not. There were a few flakes of snow beginning to fall, drifting through the air like ash from a faraway fire. The sky was grey, thick with heavy clouds. "She'll probably think something's up now. With both of us calling in."

"I'm owed leave anyway," replied Shane simply, still tapping away on Ryan's laptop. "But hey, listen to this. Hair can be used to harm people. You know who has a hell of a lot of hair? David. And Susan."

"Oh yeah?" Ryan sat down beside him, squinting at the screen. "I don't know, dude. This seems even a bit too dark for me."

" _We_ don't have to do it." He set the laptop aside, raising his hands, as if piecing together a mental map in his head. "Kelsey has a date with David. Kelsey tends to fuck on the first date. Kelsey gets a hair from David. We give hair to Bloody Mary. We let her do the job. That's one down. Right?"

"Three to go." Ryan took hold of Shane's wrists, lowering his hands with a roll of his eyes. "Stop with the _A Beautiful Mind_ thing, Shane."

"But I've connected the dots."

"You haven't connected shit."

"I've connected them." He grinned at the flat look on Ryan's face, giving his cheek a playful pinch. "Lighten up, Ry. Because it can't get much darker."

Ryan brushed his hand away, struggling to keep the flat look on his face. "Don't make me change my mind about letting you stay in my bed."

"You won't." Shane pressed a soft kiss to his lips, slipping a hand around the back of his neck, drawing him in deeper. "You'll be missing out if you do."

"I'll need a bit more convincing than that," said Ryan quietly, moving to straddle him on the couch, arms resting on his shoulders. "So c'mon. Convince me."

"Convince you."

"Mm."

He suddenly pushed Ryan sideways off him, moving with, so that he was on top. Ryan closed his eyes, waiting for the lips on his. They didn't come. 

"You don't take much convincing, do you?"

Ryan opened his eyes at the man's smug voice, raising an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, this wasn't my bed."

Shane kissed him hard, pushing his hips forwards, feeling Ryan's hands tighten on his shirt as he did so. "Then let's take it to the bed."

"I'm not quite convinced yet."

"So you're saying that you'd make me stay out on the couch," he said quietly, keeping his mouth tantalizingly close as he pressed his body firm against Ryan's. "Instead of letting me make you feel very, _very_ good. Because we aren't in a stranger's house tonight, Ryan." He paused, smirking a subtle smirk. "And you have no idea what I want to do to you."

Ryan pulled him down into another fierce kiss, this one rapidly descending into a heavy make-out session, their movements growing stronger, more desperate, bodies sliding against each other, lips barely parting for even a second. Shane pushed his hips forwards again, feeling Ryan's mouth open as he inhaled sharply at the movement, Shane's lips still touching his. He knew that this was all a bit reckless. What would they do once they got back to work? Tell Quinta they completely disregarded her warnings? Say that they fully intend to break the 'no office romances' rule? Yes, it was reckless. But right now, neither of them cared.

"Okay." Ryan kept his eyes closed, breathing heavily. "Okay, bed. Now." 

* * *

 

_The woman had told him it was the second floor. The same woman who'd given him the code. It turned out having members in the cult was actually useful sometimes. He'd always wanted to just split off, concentrate on the task at hand, but Jess had convinced him otherwise. They were human right now, and therefore needed help from other humans. Who could provide information such as addresses, and apartment block codes. He tried the door handle, finding it open. What idiots. But it saved him some time. He had a date with that blonde cop at nine. Kelly, or something. Humans and their dates. It was one of the things he was actually pretty fond of._

_David closed the door after him, quietly. The hallway was pitch-black, the rooms were pitch-black, but he never minded the dark. He was the thing to fear in the dark, so why would he not like it? He heard a tap running in the room to the left, peering around the door frame. He could see the man's tall silhouette against the window, drinking a glass of water. But even as he watched, Shane lowered the glass, half-turning to stare right at the door. Yet he didn't see him._

_He was the thing to fear in the dark._

* * *

"Ryan?" Shane placed the glass of water down, heart thumping. He was suddenly very afraid. The sort that made you positively burn up, like a fever. "Ryan. That you?"

He could hear the footsteps, quiet on the tiles, but he couldn't see the owner. Until they loomed out of the shadows, much, much too tall to be Ryan.

"Son of a fucking-" Shane lifted the glass again, swinging it at the shadowy figure of David, striking him across the head, sending him reeling sideways, the water splashing across the floor. He opened his mouth to call for Ryan, but was promptly interrupted.

David came back around, grabbing him by the throat with such force Shane stumbled, slipping on the tiles as David dragged him in a circle. He grabbed hold of the arm holding him to stop himself from falling, but the grip on his neck was tight enough to do this alone. He let out a hoarse curse as he was driven back against the wall with enough force to wind him, his head striking back off it. He shoved a hand into the man's face, pushing as hard as he could, suddenly lashing out, hearing David curse as the nails raked across his face. Still, Shane couldn't get a sound out. Ryan was just meters away, and he couldn't warn him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, and there was no Banjo to save him this time.

But surprisingly, David released him, letting him drop to his hands and knees like a puppet with its strings cut. Shane struggled to crawl away, sucking in painful breaths, collapsing as David landed with a knee between his shoulder blades. He clawed at the gag yanked around his mouth, eyes squeezed shut as his attacker pulled the gag so tight it pulled him back off the floor.

"I was meant to just get the believer," he growled, pushing Shane's head down against the cold tiles as he spoke right into his ear. "But I want to have a little fun. With you, first. Then your little boyfriend will follow." He forced Shane onto his back, pausing for a moment to make sure that the believer wasn't up and about. Silence, but for Shane's muffled curses as he struggled ferociously, kicking out under him. "Shh. Shh, now, c'mon. Unfortunately, I almost-kind-of-didn't-really-forget to bring any chloroform. So let's find out how many punches it takes to knock someone out, shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you can probably tell, David is my fav villain to write, hence the reason he's in it so much. and if u don't like that? you can kiss my buns


	16. Into The Eternal Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Sandra who politely requested that I upload the last two chapters together because they didn't wish to see the Boys in pain: Suffer
> 
> (also for real this is where it starts to get v dark)

The voices sounded distant, like echos underwater.

“I did tell him!”

“Well then where’s the believer?”

“He said he couldn’t get him, that this guy got in the way.”

Shane blinked drowsily, unable to raise his head quite yet. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know why his chest felt so tight. He didn’t know how he was even standing up. All he knew was that the entire left side of his face was blazing with pain, his mouth still tasting bitter with blood, sticky. He moved his jaw from side-to-side, relieved to find that it wasn't horribly dislocated. Was he dead? Did he get brain damage? Was Ryan okay? He finally managed to lift his head, resting it back against the wood behind him as he took in the surrounding area through heavy-lidded eyes. It looked like the church. It  _was_ the church. He’d only been in it a few weeks ago, after Niki Shenold had turned up dead. He took a deep breath, which was a bit harder than he expected, his nose still caked with blood. 

“Look what he did to him.” Hector wandered into his view, examining his face closely, pressing his fingers along the left side. He ignored Shane’s pained gasps. “He’s out of control, Jess. This guy’s lucky he didn’t get his entire face broken.”

“Ryan.” Shane swallowed, closing his eyes at the taste of coppery blood. “Where’s Ryan.”

“Not here, anyway,” came Jess’s irritated voice. “I told David I didn’t want any stupid games. But here we are.”

Shane tried to move, frowning in confusion as the tight feeling around his chest got tighter. “What… Oh. Okay.”

He was bound to one of the wooden pillars along the aisle, the one closest to the altar. There were a few people milling around, all dressed in dark cloaks, the hoods of which efficiently covered their faces. Shane swallowed, the movement painful in his throat. He’d assumed the church had just been abandoned. No clergymen had wanted to come near it, saying there was bad energy around it, that it was Satan’s home. There was a rumor that one priest was still interested, however. Shane only hoped he wouldn't turn up now. He'd probably get killed on the spot. Anyway, the past few events hadn’t exactly been good publicity for the building, and so it had got its windows boarded up, and its valuable bits and bobs removed to sit in some other, holier church closer to town. Shane closed his eyes as he remembered just how out of the way this church was. It was located closer to Simon's shack than it was to the town, at the end of a lone road. It used to have a 'cottage in the forest' type of vibe, but now it was more a 'cabin in the woods'. A subtle but important difference. The cult had clearly claimed it as their own. The still-bloody cross which had held Shenold had been turned upside-down behind the black-clothed alter, upon which sat black wax candles of various heights, all alight. The tall iron fire-stands lined the aisle. Fire was the only source of light around, it seemed. 

“What’s going  _on_ here?” Shane tried to take another deep breath, the ropes restricting his attempt. “What are you doing?”

“Clean him up, Hector.” Jess appeared in his eye-line, handing a cloth and some disinfectant to the man in question. “I don’t like the blood.”

“You don’t like blood?” Shane rolled his eyes, giving a subtle wriggle to test out the ropes. They were tied almost painfully tight, his arms pinned by his sides. “You certainly chose your company wisely.”

She arched a dark eyebrow. “I didn’t get to choose. But go on, I’ll let you keep talking.” She tapped her mouth, an ominous gesture. “Because once David is done with you, you won’t be able to anymore.”

Shane winced as the disinfectant burned the cut below his eye, stinging like a bitch. “Right.”

“You shouldn’t have pissed him off, bro.” Hector dabbed at the busted lip, lightly. “He only does what Susan says, and she doesn’t really give a fuck what he does. So you can see how that works out. Or doesn’t.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be here when he gets back,” said Jess with raised eyebrows, turning away to head up to the altar. “He has some plans for you, detective. Ones I don’t want to be around to see.”

Shane glanced at the open church doors, showing the dark morning outside. The road was eerily familiar, the overhanging trees, the muddy surface. Just like in his dream, that he'd had what felt like years ago. He'd almost forgotten it, really. And as he watched, a black car drove down the road, headlights flickering as it passed by the trees. The white-haired head of Susan stepped out on the driver's side, a much bigger figure on the other. Shane felt his heart beginning to beat too fast to be safe as he watched Susan and David ascend the steps to the aisle, moving towards him through the rows of seats. David gave him a chilling wink before simply passing him by. But Susan walked straight up to him, up the red-clothed steps. Her fingers were cold on his skin as she turned his head to the side, taking in the damage with a blank face. 

“You gonna say anything to David?” asked Hector, his tone making it clear what he thought the answer should be. “We’re meant to be being subtle. Not battering cops around the place for fun.”

“No.” She let go, turning back around to cross the altar, ducking behind it to retrieve something. "The plan will work. As long as we get the believer, the method doesn't matter. As Above, so Below.”

“Why do you keep calling him that?” Shane looked at all three of them, waiting for some response. “Why do you keep calling him 'the believer'?”

“Believers have a purer blood than others.” Susan reappeared with a long, dull metal box, placing it down on the black-clothed surface in front of her. “They allow energy to enter, good spirits, bad spirits, it doesn’t matter. Their blood is stronger. And believers are becoming harder and harder to come by.” She opened the box, the contents of which were hidden from Shane’s view. “As mankind grows older, they think that science can explain this, and science causes that. And if science can’t explain it? Then it can’t be real.” She shrugged, the end of a long metal rod appearing over the lid of the box as she squinted at it. “Sometimes science simply doesn’t apply. Mankind revers it too much. So finding a believer as strong as your friend is a rare, rare opportunity. That we simply cannot pass up on.” She placed the oddly-shaped metal rod in the currently unlit furnace beside her.

Shane took a shaky breath, dreading the answer to his next question. “What are you going to do to him?”

“Fry him. Out on the hill where the sun sets.” David stepped in to block his view of the church, wrenching Shane’s head to the side, looking at the bruises and cuts with a smug smile. “Ooh, looks painful. My bad.”

Shane kept his head turned to the side as David moved closer, feeling the man’s breath hot on his face. Now he knew how Ripley felt in that scene from  _Alien 3._ “Yeah. Hurts a bit.”

“A bit?”

“Like a bee sting.” He paused. “Or maybe two bee stings.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as David suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair, slamming his head back against the wood. “I'll show you a fucking bee sting, you little-”

“David, enough.” Susan shook her head subtly. “Not in front of the others.”

Shane finally let himself breathe as he felt the hand let go, keeping his head resting back against the wood, eyes closed. This was a bad, bad situation to be in, but there was still something in him insisting that it was all bullshit. A section of his mind that remained from before this, that was certain that these people were just insane, perhaps mentally ill, and not literal demons from the Bible. Or perhaps this was just hope. Yes, this was a hell of a pickle he'd found himself in. Work wouldn’t come looking for him, not for another day or so. Only Ryan knew what was really happening, and he didn’t want Ryan to come. He told Ryan he wouldn’t let any of these bastards take him, yet here he was, probably going to be used as bait. He could only hope that Ryan wouldn’t be stupid. Or reckless. That he’d stay safe. And not try to be a hero.

* * *

God, it hurt. It hurt even seeing Shane’s car in Bloody Mary’s driveway. He ignored the light covering of snow as he placed a bandaged hand on it, stupidly hoping that maybe Shane would just hop out, say it was a prank, he hadn’t actually been taken. That he’d planted the shattered glass and the droplets of blood on the floor of his kitchen. Ryan had fled out the door, not even making eye contact with his neighbors. Mainly because it must’ve been one of his neighbors who’d given away the apartment code, who’d given away his address. Mary had told them not to trust anyone, to be careful. They just hadn’t been careful enough.

“Ryan, I was just about to call you. I-” Bloody Mary, still clad in pajamas, peered back at the two cars parked in her driveway as she let him in. “Where’s Shane?”

“I don’t know.” Ryan sounded like he was trying to hold down the contents of his stomach, pressing his fist to his mouth as he tried to stay relatively calm. “I don’t know, I woke up and he was gone. And there was blood. And there was this. On the table.” Pinned to the table. With the same kitchen knife that had split his hands open only a day beforehand. David.

He passed her the piece of paper, hand shaking. She unfolded it, nodding grimly at the symbol, the inverted pentagram containing the head of a Baphomet, just like the Devil's tarot card. She promptly confirmed the worst.

“Church of Satan.” 

“Oh God.” Ryan buried his head in his hands, feeling his tears hot against them. “Fuck. They have him. They  _have_ him, and I didn’t wake up, I could’ve helped him, I could've saved him I could’ve-”

“Shh.” She drew him into a long hug, a comforting one. A motherly one. "Shh, it's okay, we can find him. I'll help you, I will."

"How?" He looked at her with wide, watery eyes. "How do we find him? Where would they have even brought him? What if he's _dead?_ "

"Don't start thinking like that. If they were going to kill him, they would've just done so in your apartment." She looked pensive for a long moment. "Does he have an iPhone?"

"Uh, yeah." He wiped away a stray tear, waiting for her to continue. "I think it's an iPhone. Why?"

"Find my iPhone." She nodded at his own phone, visible peeking out of his pocket. "Can you track his?"

"No, my one isn't-" His eyes widened, a glimmer of hope appearing in them. "His laptop. His laptop is in his car, I'm like, ninety percent sure."

Mary didn't even get to respond before Ryan shot off down the driveway, skidding to a halt beside Shane's car, hands pressed against the windows as he peered in. He smiled in relief, hurrying to the front, popping the bonnet. 

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously, moving down the porch steps. "The Crossroads are still in place, but only inside the house, Ryan. Be careful."

"Yeah, I just... Here." He showed her the spark plug, setting it on the ground and shattering the porcelain with one stomp. "We were taught this when we first started. How to get into cars in case of emergency."

"I have a hammer-"

"Hammer won't work on tempered glass." He drew back his hand, taking aim at the back window. "Sorry, Shane." He flung the small piece of porcelain against the window. It shattered a hole instantly, Ryan carefully sticking his hand through to retrieve the laptop.

"How?" For all the secrets of the world she knew, this was one she didn't. "How did that-"

"Google it." He bounded back up the porch steps, pushing open the laptop, tapping in the password as he sat on the top step. For once, he was thankful they all had to use the same password in the station. "Okay. Okay, shit, here it is. Here."

She moved behind him, squinting at the lone dot blinking at the end of the loneliest road on the hills. "The church. That's exactly why I was going to call you. Simon said he's been noticing movement, he's been noticing people around." She gave a firm nod. "I'll come with."

"No." He shook his head sternly, getting to his feet, a look in his eyes that showed he wasn't going to take any other suggestions. "No, you've done too much for us already. I'm not going to put you in danger. I won't."

"But you'll need-"

"I need you to do something else." He zipped up his jacket, pulling up his hood, seeing as the snow was beginning to drift from the heavens again. "I need you to be here. If I get him out, I'm going to come right here. Is that-"

"Yes, of course it's okay." She raised a finger, hurrying back into the hall, returning with a hat, a scarf, gloves, all thick and woolly. She handed them to him, looking into his still-watery eyes. "Simon will help you, if you really need it. He may seem like a scared old man, but he's been getting trouble from that group for years now, and he's never even considered leaving that house. And if you're not back by midnight, I'll-"

"I won't be going alone," he replied, giving her hand a grateful squeeze. "I owe you a massive favor. Really. And I'll give it soon." _Hopefully_.

* * *

"He was a bit weird." Kelsey shrugged, eyes glued to her phone. "Kind of had those crazy-eyes, and his hands were all scratched up. So I'm hauling ass out of that situation, I'll tell you that much."

Helen and Sara couldn't help. They were working double-time on the case with Ryan and Shane both being absent, all of them were. So although they were worried for Shane's whereabouts, they weren't half as worried as they should've been. Because they didn't  _know_. They didn't _understand_. Ryan realized he was biting on his lip hard enough to hurt, oblivious to Kelsey rambling on beside him. She'd offered her help, assuming that Shane had just gotten lost while shit-faced on his first night of leave, and that was something she did  _not_  want to miss. 

"What's with the hands, Ryan?" She nodded at the bandages, frowning at the intense look on his face as the car headed down the lone road. "And where the hell are we going?"

"I need you to do something." He tried to stop his voice from shaking, the snow whipping across the windscreen, emerging from the dark like so many flies. Or locusts. Like in the Bible. A plague. "Just stay in the car. Just stay here, and be ready to go."

"This is some  _Hangover_  shit, Ryan." She grinned mischievously, arching an eyebrow at him. "Were you two together all night? Did you get drunk and finally seal the deal? Then get caught up in a drunken misadventure?"

He didn't reply. For once, he didn't find it funny.

"Is that why you weren't in?" she continued, sitting back in her seat. "Were you too busy riding him like a seaside donkey?"

"Kelsey."

"Banging him like a screen door in a hurricane?"

"Shut up." They had to almost be there, they'd been driving along this road for what felt like hours. "I need to focus."

"Was it good?"

"Shh. Just shut up." He could see the lights from the church through the trees, flickering ominously with the falling snow. "And yes. It was."

"You  _did_  fuck!" She clapped her hands delightedly. "I fucking knew you would! Okay, I'll need some specifics, because me and Andrew have this bet going, so firstly: who topped? And on a scale of one to ten, how kinky was it? And- Hey, why'd you stop the car?"

He kept his eyes fixed on the lights through the trees as he pulled up his hood, adjusting the deep red scarf so that it covered his nose and mouth. All that was visible were his eyes, and a few loose strands of dark hair. He double-checked his belt for his gun, his mace, wondering just how well they'd work. Maybe he should've gotten some holy water. 

"Dude, what is _wrong_ with you?" Kelsey leaned across to look up at him as he stepped out of the car, the snow crunching under his shoes. "Why am I even here if you just want me to stay in the car?"

"Just- Just stay." He closed the door over, hugging himself as he moved into the black trees, sweating with the heat, despite the icy coldness around him. Fear does that to you. Makes you burn up. 

He could see black-cloaked figures moving around the small wooden church, the spire of which stretched as tall as the tallest trees. It seemed the people who built it were more interested in the height of the building than the width. Staying as low as he could, he continued searching for a potential entrance.

* * *

The furnace crackled loudly, the heat of it filling up the church. Too hot. Shane could feel the sweat slick on his skin, shirt damp, rumpled. He kept his head lowered, not even bothering to lift it as he saw a pair of booted feet step in front of him. He was tired, physically and mentally worn out. And they wouldn't even let him sleep. Well, not they. He. The guy Shane was beginning to think was Satan himself. The rest of them weren't even that bad; they were intent on burning someone alive, yes, but they weren't _malicious_. They weren't causing pain for the sheer enjoyment of it. But David seemed to find nothing else half as delightful.

"See that?" 

Shane felt a hand grip his hair, yanking his head back, causing him to grit his teeth in irritation. David stood beside him so that they were both looking at the pyre beginning to take shape in the center of the church. Busted up pews, firewood of all shapes and sizes, chucked together around a single stake. Shane swallowed at the sight of it, lip curling in disdain as David spoke right into his ear.

"We were gonna burn your little boyfriend out on the hills," he said quietly, grinning as he felt Shane trying to pull his head away. He simply pulled him back. "But the snow got in the way. So it looks like you're gonna be watching it live, detective!"

"If I get out of this," replied Shane just as quietly, through gritted teeth. "You're a dead son of a bitch. You're dead."

Shane squeezed his eyes shut in revulsion, fists clenched as he felt the tongue slide up the side of his face like a dog about to chow down on a steak. He kept his eyes shut, breathing heavily, physically repelled as David whispered right into his ear.

"You taste like _fear_ ," he growled, hearing the ropes protest as Shane pushed against them. "You haven't even seen half of it yet."

"Leave him." Susan brushed him aside, standing in front of Shane with her icy eyes glued to his. "He's important. I don't know how I didn't see it before."

Shane took a shaky breath, eyes flickering between the two. Could he have a believer's blood now? Since he believed? He'd never believed before, though. Apart from in Bigfoot, but that was always where he'd drawn the line. Was he going to find himself up on that pyre? He wanted to know, but at the same time he was too terrified to ask.

"Five seals have been broken," she said, turning to speak to David, as if Shane wasn't even there. "We are the first four. The adulteress the fifth. This man is the sixth. Fear."

"Are you sure?"

"Almost positive. He came to us, just as the other did."

A cloaked individual scurried up the steps, whispering something into her ear before backing away with a slight bow. Susan's face didn't change, but she gave a small nod, turning to Jess and Hector, who sat lounging on the steps, playing what appeared to be Go Fish.

"He's come." 

They looked at her, eyebrows raised. David turned his head to look at Shane, an excited smile on his face. Shane swallowed, already knowing who 'he' was, but refusing to accept it. Not yet. He couldn't.

"And you're sure he is what you say he is?"

"Yes." Susan moved to the altar, opening the dull metal box that lay on it, taking out a long knife, so thin it was almost dainty. "But you're right. We should make certain."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Shane, beginning to feel increasingly flighty. "What's happening?"

"You will both die," she said simply, turning her head to look up at him. "And when you die, there will be a great earthquake, and the sun will become black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon will become as blood, and the stars of the heavens shall fall unto the earth. And we will be granted leave of this town." She didn't give him time to even process the words before she gave a distracted order to David. "Prepare the Seal."

Shane swallowed at the grin on David's face, watching him cross the altar towards the furnace. "What's the Seal? What are you doing?"

"Like sealing a letter," came Hector's disinterested voice, from where he sat on the carpeted steps. "And you're the wax, bro."

The metal rod was retrieved from the furnace, glowing white. And Shane immediately clicked. He squeezed his eyes shut, heels digging into the floor as he automatically tried to back away, turning his head aside as David waved the glowing metal in front of his face. He knew the symbol. It was a flower, a simply shaped one. The same one that had been on the banner around Niki Shenold’s neck. And the same one that had been on Death’s flag in his dream. The brand swung past again. The heat was palpable, already too hot to be comfortable. He didn't want to imagine what it would feel like pressed into his skin. He could feel Susan's hands, icy cold as they unbuttoned his shirt, until the ropes around him stopped anymore from being undone. 

"Let's see how well you sing, will we?" asked David, the savage smile obvious in his tone of voice. "Get the believer to run right into our arms."

"I won't." He opened his eyes, heart palpating at the sight of the brand. "I _won't_."

David raised a bushy eyebrow. “You won’t what?”

“Scream.” Shane tried to stop his breath from trembling, jaw set in a look of utter detestation. “I'm not gonna _lure_ him here for you dicks. I'm not some fucking religious symbol either. This is all a load of bullshit.” He spat the last few words, pressing forwards against the ropes. His fight-or-flight was kicking in, but there was only one option.  “If you’re such a big man, why don’t you let me out, huh? Smack me around. Really go at it. Instead of resorting to this crap, like a wimp.”

“David.” Hector’s voice was wary, warning. “C’mon, man. Make him sing.”

“I won’t sing, you bald fuck,” snapped Shane, hands clenching into fists as he struggled against the ropes. “I won’t.”

* * *

Ryan whipped around at the sound of the excruciating scream. His blood curdled, turned to ice, shattered in his body. It went on for impossibly long, sickeningly long. It echoed around the trees. It confirmed his deepest, worst fear. It was Shane. 

He was already running, ignoring the burning bile rising in his throat. He slid on a patch of ice, falling to all fours, the ice shattering under him to bathe his hands in water so cold it was instantly numbing. A stream. Probably the same stream from the west hill. The church wasn't far away from there. He pushed himself forwards, climbing up the small bank, panting for breath. He was going to throw up. He was going to cry. He wanted to curl up in a ball in the snow, but he also wanted to burst into the church, guns blazing, and just take them all out. But that wouldn't work. That was stupid. Shane's scream still echoed in his mind, haunting. So he battled on through the drifts, carving a path towards the church, feeling the shadows watching him, awaiting him. He didn't care. He didn't care that they were gathering like an ominous flock of crows, crowding around the large doorway as he moved towards it. He probably bought his groceries off one of these hooded pricks. All he cared about was whether or not Shane was safe. Whether or not he was even alive.

"Come in." Jess smiled at him from the top step, deceivingly angelic. "You're a bit late, but we'll forgive you."

For a moment, he just stood. He looked up at her. He looked back at the group of hooded people, hanging around him like vultures. The heat from inside the church, the crackling of the fire, was simultaneously inviting and terrifying. Yet he couldn't turn away, not while he knew that Shane was inside. So he moved up the steps, avoiding Jess' piercing eyes, pulling the scarf damp with his breath down off his face as he stepped inside.

The pyre was what he saw first. It was in the center of the otherwise empty church, piled high with dry wood. And then it was Shane that his eyes landed on. Shane, head hanging, looking like the only thing keeping him standing was the ropes binding him to the wooden pillar.

"Shane. Shane!"

Ryan picked up the pace, just about breaking into a run before pairs of black-gloved hands clutched at him, yanking him back, even as he continued trying to get to his coworker. With just a lot of effort, Shane raised his head at the commotion, gaze landing on Ryan's almost instantly. He closed his eyes, looking like he was trying to stop himself from crying as he pressed his lips together in a line.

"Ah, you're here." David circled the pyre towards him, grabbing him by the arm, yanking him towards the altar. "Please, this way."

Ryan shook his head firmly, pulling against him, feet skidding along the carpeted floor. "No. No, get off me!" 

"Let go of him!" Shane was fighting furiously against the ropes, like a vicious dog on a leash. "Get your fucking hands off him!"

"Come on, you little dick." David struggled to get Ryan up the steps, catching hold of him by the hood of his jacket instead, ignoring Shane's shouts as he dragged Ryan to the black altar, where Susan and Hector waited patiently. "Now, let's see those bandages."

Ryan let out a loud curse as David drove his head down onto the wooden altar, grabbing his wrist, pushing his hand forwards so that Hector could have a look. He felt the bandages being peeled off, surprisingly gentle, considering the force being used to keep him in place. He kept his wide eyes fixed on Shane's, finally seeing the reason for the scream he'd heard. The blazing red mark on his chest was unmissable. It hurt to even look at it. Ryan felt his hand being turned over, palm up, a thumb running along the half-healed cut.

"Don't!" Shane's shouts were pleading, making Ryan's dread exponentially worse, due to the fact he couldn't even see what was going to happen. "Get away from him!"

At first, he didn't actually feel anything. The blade was too thin. But then the burning pain exploded in his hand, searing, making him cry out, struggling against David's grip. His hand was yanked over a cup, a silver chalice, the metal cold against his burning hand as his blood ran into it. After a moment or so of being used like a human orange, he was simply pulled backwards from the table, tossed down the steps like a bag of trash, the scarf falling loose off his neck. He clutched his bleeding hand to his chest, taking deep breaths as he tried to ignore the pain, the carpet hot against his face, rough. He rolled onto his back, searching his belt with his good hand, scrabbling for his gun. All he felt was an empty space where it should've been. His eyes landed on the weapon, clutched in the wrinkled hands of one of the black-hooded bastards. Without thinking, he got to his feet, scrambling back up the steps, straight to Shane.

"Ryan, fucking go!" Shane's face was shining with sweat, with tears. "Just go! Get help!"

"They're gonna kill you." Ryan couldn't take his eyes from the brand on Shane's chest, the skin blistering. "This is my fault. I should've checked, I should've-"

"Someone get him," said Jess flippantly, watching Susan downing the cup of blood like it was a shot. "He's ruining the moment."

Shane watched one of the hooded people move up the steps towards them, the one with Ryan's gun in hand. "Ryan, run. Run, get Sara, get Quinta, tell them what's happening here!"

Ryan closed his eyes as he felt something poke him in the side. Just a little nudge. He felt it again, like an animal nuzzling at him. What the hell was that? He turned his head to see a stubby white snout poking out of the black cloak, sniffing at him as the wrinkled hands subtly handed the gun over. 

"I warned you," said Simon quietly, wishing Shane and Ryan wouldn't look quite so obviously stunned. "About them. But once the cow's been milked, you can't go squirting the cream back up her udders. So here I am to see things through."

Shane pretended he wasn't listening, watching in disgust as Susan placed down the now-empty cup, eyes closed like she'd just tasted a fine wine. The other three watched eagerly as she gestured for one of the other members of the watching audience to come forwards. One of them came up the steps, head bowed, like Susan was a god herself. Which maybe she was, in a way. The god of death. And her hand vanished into the hood of the person, and her mouth moved as she whispered something, and Ryan watched in horror as the person dropped dead on the spot. Shane's mouth fell open, even as he felt the knife starting to saw at the ropes, Simon trying his best to stay inconspicuous. 

"So you're right." Jess smiled at Susan, dancing around the altar to head towards Ryan again. "Come on then, believer. It's time to be toasted."

Ryan raised his hand, and her eyes widened in alarm just for a split second. That's all the time she had, anyway, before the bullet went straight through her neck.

The church exploded into noise, some of the gathered members crying out in anguish, some in fear. Susan, Hector, and David appeared simply stunned, silent as they watched Jess teeter on the edge of the steps, the dark blood running through her fingers. Just as Niki Shenold's had, only meters away, only weeks beforehand. Their eyes followed her as she tumbled down the steps, lying in a heap at the bottom. Still.

"Son of a bitch." David grabbed hold of the poker from the furnace, the sparks pouring as he whipped it out, wielding it like a hammer, storming towards Ryan. "This is going right down your throat, you little-"

Ryan didn't even have time to take aim before Simon opened up his cloak, the bull terrier leaping forwards with a snarl, throwing itself at David to latch itself to his leg. David yelled in alarm, staggering sideways, hitting at the dog stuck to him as he stumbled into the side hall. Hector moved forwards, pausing as he saw the ropes drop, Shane looming behind his coworker like a human warning sign. Susan's eyes were wide, the closest look of terror that had ever touched her doll face. This was not planned. Another gunshot went off, Hector clutching at his chest as he dropped to his knees, looking almost shocked at the fact he'd actually been hit.

"Take her out, Ry," said Shane quietly, watching the side door in case David decided to make a reappearance. "Just do it."

He couldn't. Ryan swallowed, aim shaky. He couldn't stop thinking about Bloody Mary. She'd saved their lives, he couldn't kill her daughter. Susan was looking right at them. If she felt afraid, there was no sign of it on her face. He kept the gun aimed, but he couldn't. He couldn't murder her. If there was a way, a way to-

Susan grabbed hold of the furnace, seemingly oblivious to the scalding heat of the metal as she tipped it sideways. The fire basically splashed down the steps, the carpet soaking it up, the flames spreading, untamed. Shane pushed Ryan aside, grabbing hold of the gun, trying to take aim as the black-cloaked Susan vanished behind the ever-climbing flames, her white hair just visible as she grabbed hold of the next fire-stand, shoving it over, the flames roaring as they grabbed hold of the firewood surrounding the pyre. Simon was already running, just like the rest of the cult, scattering like marbles, their alarmed shouts and cries rising like a horrific choir. They could see Susan's tall figure, her cloak swirling around her as she moved from fire-stand to fire-stand, tipping them like they weren't made of scalding metal. Ryan grabbed hold of Shane's hand, pulling him down the steps, their grip slick with the blood from his cut.

"Shane, come on!" he shouted over the roaring, screaming fire. He heard another heavy thud, the heat in the building rapidly rising. He could see the roof beginning to smoke, the wood sizzling. "Quick, we-"

Shane yanked him back just on time, the stand appearing out of the fire beside them, angry flames throwing themselves across their path as it fell. The pyre was almost completely caught by now, smoking billowing from it in broiling clouds, making the fire appear all the brighter, the more furious. He pulled Ryan against him, the heat quickly growing too hot, too unbearable. And from the fire, like a demon from the ashes of hell, came Susan. Her hair was alight, a fiery halo, but she didn't seem to even notice as she stretched a hand towards them.

"You will die," she shouted, her voice giving away her rage. "You will depart from this world, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For us, and for _you_."

"Shoot her!" Ryan shook Shane hard, really, _really_ wishing he'd just done so himself. "Just fucking shoot her!"

Shane turned away, looking up at the stained glass windows beside them, just over his head. They were wavering slightly in the heat, the images impossible to focus in on. And he flung the gun at the nearest one with all his might, the glass shattering into pieces. The icy air shot in, whipping up the flames around them.

"Go!" Shane knelt, offering a boost to his coworker, seeing Susan coming towards them out of the corner of his eye. "Fucking go, Ryan! Now!"

After a split second's hesitation, he whipped off his jacket, throwing it over the bottom of the shattered window. He then took the boost, scrambling over, pausing halfway to offer a hand, his eyes landing on the blade glinting in Susan's hand. 

"Shane, come on! COME ON!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to credit some songs that were a MASSIVE influence on the creepy side of this fic and also basically created the characters of the four horsemen for me lmao:  
> Feral Love by Chelsea Wolfe  
> Who Are You? by SVRCINA  
> Bottom of the River by Delta Rae (this was hands down the biggest inspo for the horsemen like i literally came up with them while listening to this. like if this was a musical they'd sing this song)  
> Burn It Down by Daughter
> 
> and the Mood for the last chapter?  
> https://youtu.be/Mssm8Ml5sOo  
> take from this what u will
> 
> and also, I took the quote "once the cows been milked there's so squirting the cream back up her udder" from Olenna Tyrell because like... what a bad bitch and Simon's being a bad bitch


	17. King and Lionheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Howling ghost they reappear_   
>  _In mountains that are stacked with fear_   
>  _But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart._   
>  _And as the world comes to an end_   
>  _I'll be here to hold your hand_   
>  _'Cause you're my king and I'm your lion-heart."_

The snow crunched under their feet, just audible over the crackling of the flaming church. The smoke filled the air, the ashes mixing with the falling snow.

"Come on! Come _on!_ " Ryan skidded to a halt, slipping under Shane's shoulder to help steady him. "The road has to be around here. It does. It has to be."

The taller man didn't reply for a moment, his face slick with sweat. "...Yeah. Yeah, has to be."

Ryan spared a quick look down at the leg Shane was limping on, able to see the bloody tear in the trousers where the knife had caught him. There was probably a matching tear in the leg underneath, judging by how he was hesitant to even let it touch the ground. He leaned on Ryan, forcing himself to keep going, away from the church. Away from the hell on earth.

They continued on for another twenty minutes or so. Neither talked. Shane could barely open his mouth without a pained gasp escaping, and he didn't want to let Ryan know just how fucked they might be. His arm tightened around Ryan's shoulders, fingers digging into his arm.

"I need to stop for a second," he managed to get out, panting through the searing pain in his leg. "Oh fuck, I need to stop. Just for a second."

Ryan glanced back at the church, the swirling smoke and fire engulfing it fully, so that it was like a beacon through the trees. A beacon of danger, and death. A figure lumbered across the woods, sending a rush of terror through his chest. No, it was probably just his mind playing tricks on him. Or the fire playing with his vision. Either way, he urged Shane to continue to a small dip, just a few feet away. At least if anybody looked from the church, they'd be less visible. 

He regretted this decision almost instantly. The ground shifted under them, cracking.

Shane fell flat into the icy water, the coldness sucking the air from his lungs, yet indescribably refreshing against his skin. He could hear Ryan splashing through the cleverly disguised stream beside him, hands under his arms, pulling him upright, begging desperately that he just keep going, please keep going. Shane stumbled to his hands and knees almost instantly, collapsing against the snowy bank, feeling the coolness against the brand on his chest. The intense crackling of the flaming church was still audible over the rushing water, the heat still palpable against his back. 

“Shane, please!” Ryan’s voice was wavering, bordering on sobs. “ _Please_ , just come on!”

He felt hands on him again, helping him upright, the snow mushy under their feet as they scrambled further along the bank. The pain in his leg was the only thing he could feel, the only thing he was aware of. It was positively torturous. They only made it a few meters before Shane was down again, hands vanishing into the white snow, his shoulders heaving as he coughed violently.

“Look at me.” Ryan dropped to his knees beside him, oblivious to the cold as he cupped the other man’s face, looking in his eyes. “The road is just a bit further. We can stop on the road. But you have to  _walk_. You have to.”

“I can’t,” replied Shane hoarsely, just wanting to collapse, to sleep. “It hurts.”

“I know, I know.” Ryan spared a terrified glance at the gaping slash on Shane's leg. A last gift from Susan, to remember her by. "But you have to. Come on."

Shane was silent for a moment, head hanging. He placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder, allowing the shorter man to help him back to his feet. He hissed as he tried to put even a bit of weight on his injured leg, stumbling against Ryan, eyes squeezed shut as he let out a string of pained curses. 

"Oh that bitch," he muttered, hopping on the spot. "Oh, she got me. She got me, Ryan. It hurts like a motherfucker. Fuck."

"Just come on," said Ryan urgently, the two of them slowly making their way along the bank. He could feel Shane shivering against him. "Here, put this on."

"Ryan, no." He shook his head as the shorter man unzipped his coat, despite the fact he wanted nothing more than to get something warm on him. He'd never been so cold in his entire life. "I'm fine."

"You're not. You're just in a shirt, dude."

"And now so are you." He pushed the proffered coat away, shaking his head. "Ryan, I said I'm fine."

"You're an idiot." Ryan determinedly placed the coat over the taller man's shoulders, ignoring the feeble protests. "Now which way do we go?"

Shane paused, glancing over one shoulder. Then over the other. All that was around was the fiery church, and trees. And snow. Snow that was beginning to float down steadily from the heavy clouds, indistinguishable from the ash blowing from the church. Yet even though the snow was pretty, and peaceful, it wasn't to the two cops. Stranded. In the middle of the woods. That could still be cult-infested. 

"I guess..." Shane gave another small hop, trying to steady himself. He wasn't going to admit it, but he couldn't walk on his injured leg by now. It hurt way too much, it burned with pain. "I guess we just walk."

Ryan gave him a concerned look, eyes flickering down to his leg. "You okay?"

Shane gave a forced smile, eyes not really focusing on anything as he felt another sharp throb through his leg, shooting up through his body. "I- I- Yeah, I'm fine. I'm okay." _Fuck_. "Let's just go."

Ryan nodded, still watching the clear pain on the taller man's face as they moved forwards a few more steps. "Shane, are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm fucking sure!" he snarled through gritted teeth, his arm tightening around Ryan's shoulders as he accidentally let his leg touch the ground. "Fucking hell. Fuck. I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"It's fine." Ryan hesitated, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Look, stay here. I'm gonna go and try and find Kelsey. She's around somewhere, she has to be."

"Yeah. Yeah, alright." Shane leaned against the damp bark of a tree beside them, closing his eyes at the relief of even thinking about sitting down. "That's good. I'll just- Oh God. Oh God, Ryan, RUN!"

Ryan whipped around to see the cause of the pure terror in Shane's voice, on his face. And his eyes landed on the cause instantly. "No. No no no no."

He stood further down the bank, on the opposite side of the stream. He was facing them, his beard still sizzling, smoking, his clothing singed to show reddened skin underneath. The most demonic they'd ever seen him. Ryan was frozen in place, even as David began moving towards them, splashing through the river like a crazed drunk. A knife flashed in his hand. Susan's knife.

"Go, Ryan!" Shane shoved at him, crying out at he put his full weight on his leg, stumbling to his knees. "Fucking go!"

"No," breathed Ryan, clutching the taller man, standing over him as he watched David get closer. "No, I can't."

"Ryan, don't- David please!" Shane scrambled to keep hold of his coworker as David easily kicked him aside, forcing Ryan back against the tree. "Please, don't! Oh God, please!"

Ryan struggled feebly, too cold, too tired to stay and fight, or turn and run. Not that he'd even consider running. David had him by the throat in one hand, his other hand holding Ryan's wrist, holding it up in the air. The knife was clamped between his teeth. Shane crawled towards them, eyes wide with fear as he saw David raise the knife, placing it against Ryan's wrist. 

"No, no, NO!" Ryan's scream cut through the air like the blade through his skin, the blood pouring out, steadily dripping to blossom on the snow. "NO!"

David put his mouth to the cut, ignoring Ryan's now-fiercer struggles, the hand shoving into his face. A believer's blood provides power, Susan had always said so. And Susan had proved it. And he could feel it, warm, strong, his head clearing. He was the only one left. He had to go on. He could bring them back, if he wanted to. He glanced down, feeling Shane clawing at him, trying to pull him away. Fools. Idiot, stubborn fools. He let Ryan drop to the floor, grabbing a fistful of Shane's hair, wrenching his head back.

"You killed the woman I loved," said David, the blood staining his beard. "So I'm going to kill your little boyfriend, and then I'm going to kill you. Slowly."

Shane ignored the promises, feeling hot tears running down his face as he looked at Ryan, half-buried in the snow. "I'm sorry, Ryan. I'm sorry, I-"

The sound of a rumbling engine, of car wheels crunching made them all pause, turning to try and find the headlights through the flurrying snow. Kelsey. It had to be Kelsey. David pushed Shane off him, hurrying away into the trees, looping around towards the car in the distance. Ryan pushed himself to his knees, clutching his still-bleeding wrist, his breathing shallow, erratic. He needed to go to the hospital. They both needed to go to the hospital. Now. He opened his mouth to call out, nothing but a hoarse whisper escaping. _Help_. God, he felt dizzy. He felt something heavy against him, draping around him. Ryan pulled Shane closer, seeing the dark stain on the leg of Shane’s trousers, around the slash. It was then he noticed the red patches through the snow behind them, droplets stark against the whiteness. Ryan buried his face in Shane’s shoulder, sobbing, hearing the rasping breaths from the other man.

* * *

_Who the fuck is that?_ Kelsey peered out the window, still feeling panicked. The church couldn't have just burned down by itself. And Ryan had never come back. She could see movement outside in the trees, two people, and what looked like a fucking wolf or some shit. They were wearing black cloaks, hoods up, blending in with the black trees dotting the white snow. She hit her phone off the steering wheel in an attempt to get it to cop on and become useful again. She'd barely gotten through to the fire department, yelling down the phone that there was a fire! A fucking fire! At the church! No, the church! She hit it off the wheel again, causing an accidental honk.

"Woops! I- Holy shit!" She stared in alarm at the face just outside her window, watching her with crazed eyes. "Daniel? Damon?" _Fuck, fuck, what was his name again?_ "...Derick?"

He knocked on the window, his beard positively smoking. Well, no way in hell was she letting him into the car. He looked like he was going to murder some puppies or something. She pulled a face, shaking her head with a helpless shrug.

"Door's stuck!" she mouthed, pointing down at the perfectly working door. "Sorry!" 

He suddenly turned away, holding the knife out. The knife?! She double-locked the doors, making certain that he wasn't going to get in anytime soon. Where did Ryan leave his gun again? As she watched, David began swiping at random with the knife, turning from side to side. As quietly as she could, she began reversing, hoping to God the wheels wouldn't slip in the snow, that she wouldn't get stuck with this crazy motherfucker. He was still slashing wildly, like he was surrounded by so many bees. Or wasps. Yeah, wasps were worse. But wasps weren't furry and four-legged, with gnashing teeth and vengeance on their minds.

* * *

The hooded figures were hurrying closer, the howls and snaps from some nearby dogs filling up the air. Ryan scrambled backwards, determinedly bringing Shane with him, behind the nearest tree. Hopefully hidden. Fuck, he hoped they were hidden. 

“Oh God.” Ryan tried to hold him even closer, tried to keep him even remotely warm, arms wrapped desperately tight around him, hands clutching him. His blood slowly spread out on Shane's shirt, pooling around his wrist. The coat must've slipped off him. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Shane, don’t die. Don’t die, I- I think I love you, I do, please don’t die. Please.”

Shane didn’t reply, but Ryan could feel the weak breaths against his neck, the hand pressing into his chest as Shane tried to get more upright.

“I should…” Shane’s voice trailed off, his following inhale sounding painful. “…probably say… sorry.”

Ryan shook his head, a hand running up through Shane’s damp hair as he held him. “Don’t. Don’t.”

“I was an ass…” He gave a harsh cough, fingers tightening on Ryan’s shirt as he did so. “I was… a prick… for the past six years.”

“Shut up. No.” Ryan smiled despite himself, his vision still blurred with tears. “Most of the time it was just funny.”

A dry laugh, drowsy. “So you did… think I was funny.”

“Sometimes.” He couldn't look at his wrist, the one that still throbbed, that was still warm only from the blood smeared across it. "Only sometimes."

Shane settled against the heat of Ryan’s body, letting the snow numb the blazing pain in his leg. He could feel the warmth from Ryan, but it just wasn’t coming in. “I’m so tired. I just-”

“No, no, Shane, wake up.” Ryan grabbed a handful of snow, suddenly shoving it into Shane’s face. “Stay awake!”

“But it’s so cold.” His words were beginning to be nothing but mumbles, his eyelids heavy. “I’m so cold.”

He jumped at the sudden sound of gunshots, followed by a surprised shriek, followed by snarling barks in the distance. The hooded figures were shouting, waving, not at them. At a light in the sky. A glaring light.

“Shane, don’t. Do  _not_  fall asleep.” He cupped Shane’s face, giving it a light slap, getting a delayed blink in response. “Shane, wake the fuck up!”

He could feel his heart thumping, too loud, too harsh, too fast, getting louder… and louder… impossibly loud... He couldn't see, it was getting too bright. It hurt his eyes. It illuminated the woods, casting sharp shadows that circled the trees like the hands of a thousand clocks, the thumping growing louder. So loud.

He glanced up as the light from the helicopter landed on them, whipping the snow around in flurries as its blades spun, black blurs in the gradually-lightening sky. Ryan let himself slump forwards against the droopy-eyed Shane, let himself start openly crying, the sobs wracking his shoulders. He could hear Simon shouting, echoed by Mary, the two of them pulling down the hoods of the black cloaks as they pushed through the snow towards the two men. Banjo bounded towards them, past the more hesitant wolfhound, landing on Shane, nuzzling into him, his snout shiny with blood. 

* * *

_One year later_.

"I still think they were just crazy people."

"You're just saying that to annoy me."

"Well after my _near-death experience_ , Ryan, in which I nearly died, during which I nearly experienced death-"

"Oh my God."

"-I didn't get any light at the end of the tunnel. No message from our old pal Jesus Christ."

Ryan sighed heavily. "Maybe he just didn't want to talk to you. Which is entirely understandable."

"I'm just saying!" Shane paused in buttoning up his shirt, gesturing freely as he spoke. "Look, they just _died_ in the end. Like any other person would if they got shot. Or burned. Or, uh, mauled by a dog."

Banjo wagged his tail at the mention of his species, lifting his head up off the bed. He'd gotten his final showdown with the bearded man, and this time he'd finished it.

"Shut up, dude." Ryan appeared back in the doorway, pushing his glasses more firmly up on his nose. "We've talked about this. You said her spit boiled!"

"I was fucking traumatized, Ry! I thought you were literally dying. In my arms. Like that song." He pulled the shorter man into a warm hug, singing passionately. " _Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight!_ "

"Get off, Shane!" He gave him a half-assed push, his smile betraying his actual reaction. "Shut up! I have neighbors."

" _It must've been something you said!_ "

"You're ridiculous, dude. Really." His smile faltered slightly as his eyes landed on Shane's chest. He raised a hand, gently placing his fingers on the branded mark. Still a dark red, seared into his skin. "...I hate this. I hate it."

Shane took hold of his hand, turning it so that the angry scar across his wrist was upward. "And I hate this. But I love _you_. So it doesn't matter." He closed his eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to the scar. "We're both here. Nothing else is important."

Ryan nodded, allowing his hand to rest against the side of Shane's face, brushing a thumb across his cheek. "You know what I found scarier than the woods that night?"

Shane opened his eyes, looking down at him with genuine interest. They hadn't talked a lot about that night. Not for a few months. It still made both of them feel paranoid, afraid that one of... one of _them_ had survived. That the cult was still milling around the town. Looking for them. Looking to finish what they started.

"What did you find scarier?" His voice was soft, sincere.

"The hospital." He rested his head against Shane's chest, hearing the taller man's steady heartbeat against his ear. A sound he'd once thought he'd never hear again. "I thought you were a goner. I really did."

"Yeah, they all did." Shane stepped back, hands on the shorter man's shoulders, looking him in the eye. Reassuring. "But it's me. In the flesh. Still kicking."

It had been close, though. So close. They'd been rushed to the hospital via helicopter - something Shane was highly annoyed that he'd been passed out for - and rushed to separate rooms, where Ryan got his wrist sewn up, got his hand cleaned, where the doctor had insisted he stay calm, that Shane would probably be fine, they just needed to get him warm again. But when he'd left the room, when he'd seen Helen and Sara and Andrew and Steven and the whole team, in various stages of grief, tears, holding each other, he felt like he was going to vomit. He almost had. _He's fighting_ , they said. _He's fighting, but they don't know. He won't get warm_. He'd felt hands on him as he dropped to the floor, still in his wet shirt, his shoulders wracked with sobs. Half-delirious with everything that had happened. And half genuinely panicked by the thought of what to do if Shane didn't make it. So Helen had sat with him, on the floor, gently running her fingers through his hair as he let the tears just flow, until he'd quite literally cried himself to sleep.

"Hey, Ryan." Steven had shaken him awake - he and Helen must've somehow swapped without him even waking up. "I think you're good to go in. They said that he's conscious now, and he'll be f-"

Ryan had scrambled to his feet, running for the door, skidding through to see Shane sitting upright in the bed, a cup of tea halfway to his mouth. Just chilling, like he hadn't almost fucking died from hypothermia.

"Hey, Ry," he'd grinned, his voice still hoarse.

"Do you remember what you did when you saw me?" Shane laughed, jerking Ryan from his memories. "That was my first cup of tea after my near-death experience, and I didn't even get to take a sip before you decided it belonged on the floor." He would've let a million cups of tea fall, however. Just to feel Ryan's arms around him, face buried in his shoulder. And they'd just sat like that for a few minutes. Holding each other close.

"I was _relieved_ , Shane!" Ryan grinned at him, plonking himself down on the bed, making Banjo give the tiniest 'hrrmph'. "You know, two years ago and I probably would've prayed that you'd kicked the bucket. I probably would've gone in and unplugged your life support machine just to charge my phone."

Shane laughed, rolling his eyes. "Some days I wake up and I'm like, wow, how did I ever fall for Ryan Bergara? And then you come out with something like that, and I remember exactly why." He playfully pinched his cheek. "You're just so _charming_."

Ryan caught the hand, pulling him down onto the bed, lying back. For a moment, it was just a comfortable silence as they simply appreciated the fact that they were both alive. Breathing. Together. Shane lightly traced his fingers down the side of Ryan's face, down along his jaw, hovering over his lips, his eyes following his fingers. Drinking it in. He found himself doing that with everything precious to him. Almost dying had that effect on you. 

"You think Quinta's still mad?" Ryan's voice was quiet, hushed. As if Quinta could be hiding under the bed. 

"I think she'll get over it." Shane pressed a firm kiss to his lips, feeling Ryan's hands move to settle on his back. They'd been planning on maybe keeping their relationship hidden for a bit, but then Quinta had wandered into the hospital room, and it's not very easy to say you're just friends when your tongues are down each other's throats. "Or grow a pair and fire one of us."

Ryan frowned in mock-disapproval. "Hey, I wouldn't be cool with getting fired."

"Not even for me?" 

He sighed pensively, resting his head back on the bed. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe?"

Shane chuckled, rolling off him to simple lie there, staring at the ceiling. "Well, think about it, Ry. If she was willing to keep us working together when we were basically throwing hands in the corridors everyday, then she should be willing to keep us working together when we actually like each other."

"I'm not sure if she likes the transition from throwing hands in the corridors to banging in the storage closet."

"That was once!" Shane turned his head, finding that Ryan was already looking at him with a fond smile on his face. "One time. Because you're just so irresistible."

"Oh shut up." He moved to straddle the taller man, leaning down to kiss him, Banjo giving another irritated grumble from beside them. "You're just trying to sweet-talk me because you used up the last of the coffee."

"I didn't notice!"

"You didn't notice the jar was empty?"

"Look, look. I'll make it up to you." He raised a suggestive eyebrow. "Right now. How about that?"

Ryan pressed his lips together to try and stop himself from smiling. "Sex won't get us new coffee, Shane."

"God damnit. I wasn't planning on leaving the apartment at all today." He linked his hands behind his head, still smiling up at him, just a bit sly. "I thought we could just spend our Sunday in here. Together. And I could make up for whatever lost coffee many times over."

"You can't charm me, Shane Madej. I've grown wise to your ways."

"Get Mary to get it!"

Ryan sat back, raising his hands in a gesture of disbelief. "She only helped us out when you couldn't walk, you idiot!"

"Tell her I still can't walk." He rested a hand across his eyes, turning his head aside very dramatically indeed. "Oh, woe is me! Mine leg does pain me so!"

"No, Shane. Come on."

"Oh, fine." Shane sat upright, wrapping his arms around Ryan's waist, chin against his chest as he stared up at him with wide eyes. "Can't believe you're doing this to me. On my day off."

"Well how about this." Ryan looked down at him from under heavy lids, a small smile on his face, running a hand through the man's thick hair. "You get the coffee, and I make up for your epic struggle to leave the apartment and go the ten minutes down the road."

Shane was quiet for a moment. "Make up for it how?"

"However you wa- Oh my God!" He propped himself up on his elbows, staying where Shane had tipped him off, watching the taller man bolt out the door. "Jesus, what was- Oh come on."

Shane held the coffee jar up, nice and new. "Ha! I bought it on the way here!"

"You jerk," he said with a laugh, watching as Shane placed down the jar like it was a priceless artifact before bounding towards the bed. "Woah woah woah! Okay, just-"

"Shhh, c'mon." He pushed Ryan flat on the bed, feeling the shorter man's legs hook around his waist as he covered him with passionate kisses. Banjo finally gave up, hopping down off the bed and clicking out into the hallway. "C'mon. We only have all day. And tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And maybe even the d-"

"Yeah, I get it." A soft laugh. "I get it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a nice ending song that gave me enough feels to give this the ending i did
> 
> https://youtu.be/MtyBBoOUgho
> 
> Also I'd like to thank 30 Rock for helping me out of my writer's block (some dialogue from the first chapter is straight from the show)


End file.
